#then their sons wear their combined colors

[greenorangevioletgrass]

give me a minute (1/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 4.7k warnings: established former relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, discussions of separation and divorce, luca and reader has a son, unresolved sexual tension 👀 notes: this fic has been the bane of my existence for the last couple of months or so. it all started as a simple thought of "ooh it would be fun to have a steamy smut with ex!luca" and then it turns into a whole thing with like proper angst and stuff lol. this will be split into two parts, and i think i need encouragement to finish the second part. so please enjoy this first part and tell me what you think! ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted of my latest fics! ✨

03:49 PM

Everything is fine, you keep telling yourself.

Your soon-to-be ex-husband is flying in from Denmark to finalize the divorce—and even after two years of exhaustive paperwork and mediations and court proceedings, you still don’t know how to feel about this. His visit to New York is meant to be a consolation prize for your six-year-old son Alfie, whose only facetime with his dad lately is through… well, FaceTime. But, given how extraordinarily difficult he’s being—fussing over his breakfast, stalling shower time by a record of 48 minutes, refusing to wear anything you picked out for him… you have an inkling that he might be a little nervous to see his father.

And to make matters worse, it’s raining cats and dogs outside, which delays Luca by two hours now and actively threatens the zoo outing he has planned out for him and Alfie.

So… despite the shitstorm that is happening in your apartment and out, you keep telling yourself that everything is fine.

Because it is. Your home is tidy enough, with all the toys and the mess tucked away in their little cubbies. Your son is dressed up enough; he’s finally put on his pants and shirt, although you missed a button and he won’t let you fix it. The storm is outside, and you’re safely sheltered in. And your relationship with your ex is civil enough, so you feel…

Fine enough.

But the doorman buzzes in, and you can definitely tell the awkwardness in his voice. “Afternoon, Ma’am. I have your husband— I mean, Chef Luca— I mean Mr. Bailey—”

You sigh, not having the energy to let this go on. “Yeah, yeah. Send him up.”

Alfie looks up from his coloring book and practically jumps out of the couch. “My tummy hurts, I’m gonna make a doodie!”

“No running!” You remind him just a second too late, watching him dash over to the bathroom and slamming the door closed. He has a nervous stomach just like you, and as you feel the icky twist in your gut… you can’t help but empathize with his antics today. You would be fucking shit up too, if you only could.

There’s a knock at the door, and you brace yourself as if you’re about to let the storm itself in (although, quite frankly, you probably are). Your hand feels clammy, and you have to wipe it off on your dress before you unlock the door and turn the knob.

“Hey.”

If the storm was a person, you wouldn’t have associated it with the man standing before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With boyish features and dark blond locks like gentle daylight. It feels like a reach to imagine the seven years of your relationship with him was, indeed, an epic fucking hurricane.

Still. 

You can’t help that you miss him.

“Come on in.” You step aside, not really meeting his gaze.

He murmurs a small thanks and apology, a staple combination in Luca’s British vernacular, as he squeezes in through the door with his duffel bag and suitcase.

“I thought you’d dropped these off at your hotel before you came here.”

“I know. I was going to, but…” he puts down his bags close to the jacket closet, like he always does, “But I got held up for ages and traffic was awful and I didn’t want Alfie to wait even longer, so…”

“Right.” You nod absently. “Well. He’s in the bathroom, should be out in a second, so… have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”

“Um, water’s fine.” He takes his seat on the dining table.

You’re not sure which one is more jarring; the sheer familiarity of this, or the fact that it isn’t anymore. The two of you just hovering in the home you used to share, courteous but distant.

Luca looks around the place, and notices all the differences right away. You kept the glass dining table and two of the chairs, but changed the corner seating into a plush dining bench against the kitchen island. He recognizes Alfie’s favorite stuffed bunny on the couch, although the throw pillows were new. But he takes one look at the wall… and his heart drops.

Gone are any traces of him in the snapshots of your life. The pictures are all of you and Alfie—eating ice cream in the park, grinning and showing his first lost tooth, dressed up on Halloween… He really shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed to find the wedding portrait gone, or the vacation selfie in Italy four years ago. But it hurts quite a bit to find a generic flower portrait replacing the picture of him kissing you on the forehead while Alfie, laying on your chest, merely hours after his birth.

“Yeah, I…” you clear your throat as you hand him the glass of water, “…did some redecorating.”

“It looks good.” He manages a stiff nod, taking a hesitant swig of water.

“You look…” good, you want to say. Because he is. He’s got that tan and the haircut that reminds you of when you first met him years ago. But you can’t say that. So you settle with, “You look well.”

He meets your eyes, really meets your eyes for the first time, and you try to convince yourself the little flutter you feel inside is just your nervous stomach. But he smiles, soft and earnest. “So do you.”

You turn back and open the fridge, welcoming the cold air and how it cools down the burning warmth on your cheeks. Trying not to freak out and decide what you’re getting, so you don’t look like an idiot. Your hand grabs a can of ginger ale, and you sigh in relief.

“How’s Alfie doing in school?”

“He’s doing alright. He’s enjoying his art classes. Math is still a struggle, but Ms. Rashad says his reading is quite advanced for his age.” You relax a little bit into the conversation. The topic of your son resets you a little bit into a somewhat common ground as co-parents. Plain and simple.

“Definitely takes after you. My dyslexic ass could never.”

You smile at that. Small jokes are still there, always a good sign.

“And the, uh…” he lowers his voice, “the anxiety?”

“Comes and goes. He’s been complaining about a stomach ache all day.” You glance towards the bathroom.

He frowns in concern. “Should we go check on him?”

“Sure…” You walk together with Luca following suit, tentatively knocking at the door. “Alfie? Hey bub, how’s your doodie?” It sounds silly, but you find it helps to ask open questions instead of showing your worries outright.

A flush from inside. “There’s no doodie,” he hollers. His voice is murmured from the barrier, and then the running tap water.

You catch the unease in Luca’s features, and you feel a little bad for him. It wouldn’t feel great that your own son is nervous to see you after many months apart. “You wanna come out, then? Your dad’s here.” You try to sound cheerful and upbeat, hoping it’ll hype them both up.

The two-second gap never felt so long. But the door opens, and there he is, standing meekly against the frame. Staring up at you and then at Luca.

Luca’s heart nearly stops as those big doe eyes stare up at him, a spitting image of you. The same softness. The same spark of stubbornness.

The same vulnerable look.

“Hey, bub.”

“Hi.”

“Can I get a hug?”

There’s a brief pause, before he steps forward and throws his arms around his father’s middle. Luca grunts softly, a little surprised by the sheer force Alfie is hugging him, his heart swelling three times over.

“Oh my God, look at you!” He ruffles the boy’s dark hair and kneels down to level with him. His cherubic face is small cupped in his large hand, but not as small as Luca remembered it. “You’re so tall now!”

“Of course. I’m 3 feet and 8 inches tall now. Right, Mommy?” He proudly announces, getting the exact height completely memorized.

“That’s right,” you confirm with a grin. 

Luca gasps, a smile blooming on his face. “What?”

Alfie nods. “I’m gonna be as tall as you.”

“No! Don’t grow up so fast!” He playfully cries out.

“Why?”

“Because I won’t get to do this anymore!” Luca seizes his boy into his arms and sweeps him off of his bunny-socked feet, sending Alfie into a fit of hysterical giggles.

The sight makes you chuckle, but the feeling could bring Luca to happy tears. He’s been gone for so long, he’s afraid he’d forget how it feels to hold his son in his arms again. Or worse, that his son would find his presence alien.

But he’s here now. With you and the son you share. Attacking Alfie in tickles and noisy kisses, and letting the boy climb him like monkey bars. And it calms his anxious heart a bit as he reminds himself, everything’s fine. 

And as things fall back into place, thunder crashes outside, as if sobering all of you back into reality. Alfie shirks into himself, climbing off of his father’s back. You want to reach out for him so badly, but at the same time, not wanting to interrupt his bonding time with his dad.

“It’s okay, bub. It’s just thunderclap,” Luca soothes emphatically over the sudden silence, bringing Alfie back down to his feet. He smooths his son’s hair gently, comfortingly. “I got you, I got you…”

“Do animals even come out in the rain?” Alfie is back to his withdrawn self, mumbling his words and avoiding Luca’s gaze.

“Some animals actually love playing in the rain,” you chime in helpfully.

Luca keeps his tone cheerful and bright. “Yeah, and you can wear your raincoat and your wellies and I’ll even let you jump in puddles—”

“I don’t wanna do that! I wanna stay home!” He whines, voice raising a little.

“It’s your dad’s time—”

“No!”

“Alfie.” Your tone is firmer now, as he struggles out of his father’s arms and runs to his favorite corner of the couch in the living room, holding his stuffed bunny tight. 

But Alfie’s got a point. This is not the kind of rain where you can take a leisurely stroll in. No, this is the kind where you stay huddled inside and hope it doesn’t flood the streets. Luca takes a thoughtful look at Alfie who is sulking and shrinking from the sound of thunder, at the window completely obscured from rain, and then at you… offering an apologetic smile.

So much for quality time with his son. 

Luca’s heart sinks a little. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe we should just wait it out…”

“Are you sure? I mean, you flew 9 hours to see him—“

“And I don’t want him to be pissed at me the whole time we’re hanging out,” he reasons. “Besides, I don’t think any Uber would take our order at this time.”

It makes sense, you think. As much as you want this awkward little broken family dance to end, you know that staying in and waiting it out is the best option. Alfie would feel much more comfortable at home than in whatever hotel Luca is staying in. And maybe it’s your protective side talking, but if he ever gets fussy, you’d prefer to be around to deal with it.

“Alright, fine.”

“Yeah? Is that okay with you?”

You shrug. The truth is a little more complicated, but ultimately you settle with a simple, “yes.”

Alfie takes a quick glance at you and Luca emerging from the hallway (you have your mother’s side eye, Luca always said), before returning to fiddling his stuffed bunny’s ears (your father’s neutral look of disapproval, you would say). Like clockwork, Luca takes the seat next to Alfie, while you take the puffy stool in front of him.

“That wasn’t very nice of you to raise your voice at me and your dad like that. I get that you’re nervous about the weather—a bit startled, too— but still. We don’t raise our voices in this household.”

Alfie looks at you and Luca. “I’m sorry.”

Luca nods in acknowledgement. “I’m sorry for being late, buddy.” He gingerly reaches out to touch the boy’s hand. “You’re right, though. It might be best to stay in for a bit.” He motions at the rain hammering down on the window outside.

“I told you. I wanna stay at home.”

“I know. And we are for now. We can…” Luca scans around for something to do. His eyes fall on the coloring book and the open box of color pencils next to it. Bingo! “We can… color some drawings in that book?”

He pouts, not entirely sold on the idea but not outright refusing it either. 

“Or, hey, I got some new drawings on me. You can color them, too.” Luca takes off his hoodie and shows off the tattoos on his arms.

God, you forgot about the plethora of trashy tattoos adorning his skin. Even worse, you forgot how it highlights the defined curves of his biceps. Focus, for fuck’s sake! You avert your gaze towards the flower portrait on the wall. 

Alfie perks up a little. “This is my old drawing.” His tiny finger pokes at his forearm, on a tattoo of a stick figure climbing up the stairs. “You still have it?”

“Of course. It’s there forever. I’ll always have it.” Luca finds himself choking up at that simple admission. A little token of childhood of his ever-growing love. “Go on, get your crayons.”

Alfie looks at you as if seeking permission, and it makes you want to laugh that he shares the same animated eyebrows as his father. 

“Go ahead, bub,” you usher him off lightly, and as soon as he’s out of sight, nods at your ex. “Good save.”

Luca half-smiles. “Thanks. You should chill out. Read a book, take a nap or something. I got him.”

“What, are you trying to kick me out?”

“No, I just—”

Your smile breaks out. “I’m kidding! Go hang out with Alf. I got a Zoom meeting in a few minutes anyway.”

He sighs in relief, chuckling lightly. “You almost got me there…”

You briefly pat his shoulder and for an even briefer moment, his hand is atop yours. The big ‘A’ tattoo on the back of his hand—your son’s initial in a bold Gothic letter— serves as a reminder of what’s past; a whirlwind romance, the wild days of being a family of a merry band of misfits…

Misfits. That’s the biggest takeaway here, you suppose. Your pieces don’t quite fit right. Not without little Alfie gluing you together. 

With a final squeeze on Luca’s shoulder, you make your way to your bedroom, making space for Luca’s puzzle pieces to fit with Alfie’s because they don’t fit yours anymore.

***

05:04 PM

By the time your Zoom meeting ends, the pelting rain outside is louder and the chatter inside is nearly inaudible. It feels nice for about ten seconds… until you remember that you have a six-year-old at home and long bouts of silence can be quite… well, suspicious. You pad out into the hallway to check on him.

“Let’s see. You wanna do the sunflower next? What do you think, my love?”

Oh right. For a moment, you forgot that the thirty-year-old other parent is here with him.

Luca has his t-shirt sleeves hiked all the way up, biceps in full display as Alfie colors in a tattoo on the back part of his upper arm. The boy’s tongue sticks out and his eyebrows furrow in focus. It seems like a delicate operation between them, so you linger out of sight for just a while longer.

“Why do you like sunflowers, Dad?”

The two of you have always supported his inquisitive mind, and he missed these kinds of questions most of all. Even if the answers can be a little complicated. “Because of your mum, actually.”

“You like it because Mommy likes it?” Alfie’s little nose crinkles.

Luca chuckles in amusement, sensing the judgment in his son’s tone. Damn you guys for teaching Alfie not to get carried away by trends. “Well… when your mum and I first met, it was winter in Chicago and it’s pretty bleak and gloomy and freezing. But, your mum had a little sunflower by the window—just like that one.” He glances at the little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “She said it’s a reminder to let the sun shine in. I thought it was adorable. We started doing that everywhere we lived and… I don’t know, it reminds me of home.”

“Do you have a sunflower by your window, Dad?”

His heart catches as he realizes the answer. “No, I don’t…”

“Why? You don’t miss home?”

There’s a sharp pang of hurt in hearing that innocent query. The apartment in Copenhagen, as nice as it is, has never been much of a home for Luca. He would get up before the sun is up and return from work late at night—lather, rinse and repeat. On his days off, he would either go on a morning run and spend much of his time outside, or sleep til noon and live on instant ramen and takeout. There’s no time for a sunflower by the window. No room. He made sure of that.

He doesn’t deserve one after leaving his wife and son for fucking Noma. 

Luca swallows back the lump in his throat, although the slight waver in his voice gives him away. “I got my sunflower right here, bub. My little piece of home.” He taps on his arm softly as his son finishes up. 

Alfie hums, pleased with how the tattoo looks, now filled in with yellow and black and brown crayons. “I think this is my favorite one.”

“Yeah? Not the tabasco?” Luca grins, looking down at his forearm—specifically at the mostly accurate red and green of the hot sauce bottle.

“No…” Alfie taps his chin with his finger thoughtfully. “This one is prettier.”

Luca maneuvers around to look at the sunflower tattoo a little better. “You’re right, it is much prettier. Maybe I should get the colors in permanently, huh?”

The boy’s face lights up. “Can you?”

“Yeah. I think I will. Nice job, my little tattoo artist.” Luca pulls him into a bear hug and kisses the top of Alfie’s head. 

You can’t help but chuckle, glad to see them bonding again, lost in your thoughts for a moment.

“Mommy! Dad says I can be a tattoo artist!” Alfie snaps you out of your reverie.

“Is that right?” Your eyebrows shoot up, struggling to maintain a neutral expression while staring at Luca like with all due respect, what the fuck?

He raises his hands in surrender. “I just said he’s my little tattoo artist, that’s all.”

“I colored in all of Dad’s tattoos! Look!” Alfie tugs at his dad’s arm, beaming as he shows off his work.

You step forward, studying the results of the tattoo makeover. Every single tattoo is colored in; some accurately, like the sunflower and tabasco, while others (like the purple fish and chips and blue scotch bonnet)… not so much. You don’t know which one’s more amusing; your son’s artistic style, or your ex’s bashful look as he models the art works on his arms. 

“Looks great, bub. Well done!” You ruffle Alfie’s hair, enjoying his improved mood.

“Can I watch Bluey now?”

You purse your lips comically. “I don’t know, bub. Why don’t you look at your checklist on the fridge and see if you can?”

Alfie bounds past you, towards the fridge, and reads the checklist out loud to himself. “Have you… brushed your teeth? Yes. Brushed your hair? Yes…” He flattens his wavy locks with the palm of his hand, continues reading with a lower murmur. “Mommy, I did everything except tidy up my room and play outside for 30 minutes!”

“Okay. Obviously we can’t play outside, so… why don’t you just go clean your room and I’ll let you watch Bluey for a bit?”

Alfie gamely nods and goes into his bedroom, his bunny socks muting his footsteps against the hardwood floor.

Meanwhile, it takes you an extra beat to realize how close you’re standing with Luca without your child between you. He rolls down the sleeves of his black t-shirt sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Your meeting went okay?”

“It’s alright.” You look at literally anything but the man in front of you, ultimately stopping at your potted sunflower by the windowsill. “That storm out there, on the other hand…”

“Yeah…”

You take an inconspicuous look at the hallway, making sure your son is out of earshot. “Weather reports say it might last a few more hours.”

Luca huffs, trying not to stress out about the possibility of street floods. Of all the things he missed, New York thunderstorms are not one of them. Still, this shitty weather has granted him some time with his son, at his former home… with his former spouse. And God, does he miss this more than he dreads the weather…

“Want me to make you guys dinner?” He offers earnestly.

You pull back, returning to your normal volume. “Oh. No, you don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind. Really. Might as well, right?”

You hear heavy footsteps from the bedroom and Alfie hollers from the hallway. “I’m all done!”

“Don’t forget your crayons!”

Alfie promptly makes a beeline towards his leftover mess. “Heard, Mommy.” He hurriedly puts his crayons back in the box and rushes into his room to put it away. Returning mere moments later with a newfound spring in his steps. “I’m done for real! Now can I please watch Bluey now?”

“I can cook while he gets his screen time.”

The two boys look at you with their best puppy eyes, and it’s the most disarming thing you’ve seen in a while—and the resemblance between them only makes things worse. You playfully roll your eyes in relent. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. Watch your TV and make your dinner.”

There’s a quiet little yesss from Alfie as Luca low-fives him before they scatter, one to the living room and the other to the kitchen. For a moment, you feel like you were transported back in time. For the first time in over two years, you’re caught between cartoon sounds from the TV and the kitchen alive again. All was well in the household. 

“Is he still a picky eater?” Luca mouths the last two words inaudibly.

You raise your eyebrows in confirmation. “All he wants to eat is chicken nuggies.”

“I can do chicken nuggies,” he shrugs easily, rummaging through the freezer and takes out a pack of chicken breasts. “Or some version of that.”

Upon overhearing the key word, Alfie’s head all but whips toward Luca. “We’re having chicken nuggies for dinner?”

“Er, kind of.”

“Can I help?” He perks up from the back of the couch, excitement bubbling over.

Luca smiles apologetically. “Maybe later, my love. Daddy’s gonna be using a big knife…” he says as he checks the blade closely, swiping it with his thumb. “…which is dull, by the way. When was the last time you sharpened this?”

“I… have no idea.” You frown. You don’t even remember sharpening any knives… ever. Meanwhile, Luca simply rummages through the kitchen drawer, which makes you ask, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sharpening it,” he states matter-of-factly, already setting up a makeshift sharpening station which… what?

“Didn’t even know we had that,” you murmur plainly as you watch him work. Taking out a block of whetstone from the drawer (where did that even come from?) and running it under the sink. Laying out a kitchen rag and the stone on top of it.

He chuckles a little, scraping the blade against the stone at an angle, firmly but carefully. “Can’t leave you good Santoku knives without the proper sharpening tools, right?”

“You never taught me how to do it, though.”

“Yes, I have.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“What are you talking about? Back in Chicago, I—”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was one time forever ago! And you never let me sharpen the knives. You literally always do it.”

He pauses, grinning bashfully. “Fair…”

For the umpteenth time that day, Luca’s heart catches—this time from hearing you laugh. Your warm voice rings so pleasantly in his ears, and the way your face lights up… he almost forgets there’s a storm outside, because he’s got a lovely summer day right here in front of him.

And honestly, what is beautiful sunny Copenhagen compared to this warmth of the two people he loves the most?

“Alright, alright. You want a refresher? Come here.”

You gingerly take the place next to him, arms crossed so as to not invade his space. Neither of you say anything when your shoulders brush against each other. It’s brief, painstakingly so, but eerily familiar. You wouldn’t admit that you want to stay pressed against him a little longer, but… you do.

“Okay, so. You see this bit right here?” His finger runs up the line where the blade flattens into the edge. “Rest the knife on the stone on this angle, start from the heel—near the handle— and just… bring it in,” he demonstrates the inward sliding motion—short and precise and repetitive, “and work your way up to the tip.”

You silently watch him work for a moment, handling the knife. Firm and steady, but not harsh. On the contrary, it’s almost… delicate. You’ve seen many chefs work in your lifetime, but no one is as composed or stoic (or handsome, but that is beside the point) as Luca. It’s quite fascinating. 

“And you do this on both sides, right?” You vaguely recall.

“Good memory.” He nods appreciatively. “Some people like to do each side one at a time, back and forth, but I like to do one side, get that burr forming…”

“What’s a burr, sir?”

Luca chuckles at your little Hamilton reference. “So when you work on this side, you’ll feel a nice little rough bit forming on the other side like this.” He slides his thumb from the knife’s spine to the edge and carefully guides your hand through the motion. “Feel that?“

Yes. That should be an easy enough answer, because yes, you do feel the rough edge of the excess metal on the blade. But it’s a bit hard to focus on that when you’re more fixated on the rough calluses of his fingertips instead…

In theory, playing a knife with your almost ex-husband is as bad as a bad idea can get. In practice, though… Having your hand in his again, feeling him so close to you, smelling his perfume…

“That’s the burr. Once you get it on one side, you can switch over to the other side and balance it out.” His voice is lower now. Softer. “And you just… do it over and over again until you’ve worked off the burr and have a smooth and sharp blade.”

Luca switches the knife to your other hand and stands behind you, hoping to God you can’t feel his pounding heart as his chest presses against your back. Gently guiding you through the sharpening motion—the firm, steady, angled scraping of the blade towards you. You swear to God, every pull brings him just a tad closer.

“So you basically have to break the knife a little to fix it?” 

“That’s basically it, yeah.”

The storm feels miles away. His hands are still curled against yours. His chest flush against your back. His body heat emanates from within him and shrouds you like your favorite cardigan.

“Listen, I—”

“Thanks… for the refresher.” And with that, you put the knife down on the kitchen rag and pull away.

It takes him an extra second to snap out of it and step back to make way for you as you retreat back into your bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. No problem.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck your fucking life to hell.

***

if you've reached the end of this page, thank you so much for reading! do tell me what you think, reblog, send me asks, thoughts, ANYTHING. i would LOVE to hear your opinion!!!

#will poulter #chef luca #luca the bear #the bear fx #chef luca x reader #luca x reader #chef luca x ex-wife!reader #chef luca fic #chef luca smut #will poulter fic #will poulter fluff #will poulter angst #will poulter smut #ava writes

[bitchlessdino]

mood rings, drive thru theaters, and the latest issue of tiger beat (m)

Pairing: chan x college student!reader (afab) Genre: angst, smut, fluff Word count: 6.9k tags: SVTHUB COLLAB, set in the 70s, plot twist with dark ending (possibly triggering to some), pwithplot, tutor!reader, busty!reader, pining, brief mention of religion, mention of recreational drugs, mention of death, mention of medicine and medical practice, mention of tragedy (car crash), breeding kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex, couch sex, handjob cream pies, dirty talk. Summary: when you fall in love, it can feel like you’ll be with that person forever, that there isn’t another being in the world you rather be with. This case is just as heavy in your youth, tutoring a boy you’ve only ever walked circles around, while you wear a mood ring from his parents souvenir shop so you could feel closer to him. When it happens, you don’t expect things to crash harder than the way they do. author note: she's here!!! i might reedit later but i wanted to get this out before i changed my mind about the plot again so enjoy and check out the rest of the collab!!!!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun

Falling in love in the seventies wasn’t easy. You didn’t have mobile phones or text messaging, hell, you were lucky if you had email. Most people didn’t. That’s what made it so much harder to be a person stricken in love. All you had was paper, a pen, and the possibility of hearing something through your home landline.

Every day you would wait for the confirmation call he’d be coming. He was one of the polite ones. You were grateful to have formally met him through the tutoring program held in college and you look forward to that phone call and the weekly meetings every Tuesday and Wednesday to go over organic chemistry. Somewhere in that mix, you had hoped to find your own chemistry with him despite knowing how selfish that’d be.

You’d never admit it loud but you had the classic high school pining back when you attended the same classes in the same town. He was a sweetheart then just like he was a sweetheart now and you longed for him like any other teenager. He had you doodling combinations of your names together in a worn out notebook and cherishing an item you secretly associated with only him. Yours was a mood ring.

In the summer of 74’, a new souvenir shop had just opened around the block after countless failed businesses by previous owners. This shop was owned by the Lees, a cute mom-and-dad duo that was sweeter than any cream-filled Twinkee. There was not a thing intimidating about them. They seemed like good people. What you weren’t ready for was their son working the register that day.

What was it about a man in wide leg jeans and a tight fitted shirt that made you want to physically fall to your knees?

At the time, he was wiping a glass candy tray rather meticulously. He has only greeted whoever came in without looking, too focused on getting every dust particle out of every crevice, so he didn’t notice how you found him to be the most interesting sight you’ve seen.

His smile when seeing the swell job he’s done was priceless compared to every piece of merchandise in the store. If there was a chance you could bottle up and take it away for keeps, you would. You would tell the local newspaper this store would be a new world wonder just from this boy alone. 

You had to pinch yourself to finally pull your eyes away from him, scanning for something, anything, interesting enough to purchase and ring it up with him. Finally, your eyes land on something colorful, ever-changing, and wearable.

“Will that be all for today?”

You nodded, holding back a wide grin as you watched him run through your purchase. His smile never faltered in front of you, and for some reason, it made you feel special, despite the assumption he probably smiled in front of anyone who came in. Still, it made an impression.

“That’ll be a dollar please and since you’re a new customer,” he picked something from a box behind the counter, “a pack of now and laters for the road. You can have one now and another later. They’re great.”

God, he’s cute.

You mused at him, accepting the ring and freebie after paying him up front. “Thank you.”

“Have a great day. Catch you on the flip side!”

You waved back at him on your exit, immediately regretting not staying longer to chat. As expected, your mind went blank the second he spoke to you, and the moment you were alone, you slid on the mood ring on your ring finger and focused all of your energy on thinking about the questions you could’ve asked. For him, that was like any interaction, but for you, it’ll be a core memory. 

It was throughout the years you realized that you’d be attending the same high school, sharing the same senior year, experiencing the same last year festivities, but despite the many opportunities, you never had an encounter like that with him again. You’d pass by that souvenir shop countless times, glancing at him while he worked every shift, but cowardly never approached him again. Not with the lack of trying, of course, your adolescent self was too busy to find a way to make him fall in love with you according to whatever you read in Tiger Beat.

You remember flipping through it, back and forth, momentarily distracted by the boyish charm of David Cassidy, and then going back to reread it in case you missed something. This had been your adolescent bible to understand whatever was on trend because only God knew you needed it. Somedays, you’d pretend you were talking with him through your magazine posters. Now that was a face deserving to be in magazines.

“You’re still thinking about that boy? Just talk to him already.”

Even your closest friend, Stacey, couldn't get your head out of the clouds. 

You adamantly shook your head, the magazine clung to your chest. “No, absolutely not. Me talking to him wouldn’t even happen in my dreams. In fact, I’d probably have to pay admission to see him in my dreams.”

She rolled her eyes, letting you get back to whatever exactly you were doing. “Okay, drama queen. We get it. You like a boy.”

She was used to this at that point and it’d be all the same. You never outgrew it entering colleges either, the same one he happened to attend, which you couldn’t have been more stoked to find out. “He’s not just any boy, Stacey. he’s the boy. He’s so far out. I can’t even fathom his existence.”

You were in fact exaggerating, but at the ripe age of 18 all of it felt sincere and you truly did believe it was all true.

And to think you hadn’t formally met him yet until you started participating as a tutor in a peer help program at your University. You didn’t expect much of it, only thinking of collecting some community hours and hopefully maintaining a good reputation with your professors and there he was, like fate. There he should, hair coifed in intentional pristine, a loosely buttoned vibrant green shirt, and familiar tightly fitted pants that flared from the bottom. 

Your breathing seized, stunned by the sheer fact you have stood this close to him since the first time your eyes laid on him. When he turned to you, he didn’t seem to notice your reluctance to walk closer as he strode confidently in your direction. 

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Lee Chan. You're my tutor, right?”

Your heart sounded like a metronome at the highest speed at this point, taking your breathing in little by little, timidly returning him with your own introduction. Safe to say, you were both scared out of your mind, yet excited about this turn of events. Though, if you thought about it too hard, you had the chance of rendering tutorship useless and then it’s farewell to Chan.

That’s when you made the executive decision to omit him from your head during these sessions and treat him like any other peer needing help, as you initially intended with anyone you were assigned. If you wanted to continue these sessions and help out Chan, you needed to do more than think about what your future looked like together with 2.5 kids and a big picket fence.

You picked up a polite smile and settled in at a table, flipping a textbook to the first chapter of the course. Fortunately, he followed just as any other person struggling in chemistry and attempted to keep up with the lesson plan. As expected, you’d stumble over many of your teachings, forgetting some of the information yourself and having to refer to the book due to the blinding glow of your student, but as time passed, things eventually were more tolerable.

It was a few months later found an easier medium of being infatuated with the young man but helpful enough to pass the assignments in the above-average percentage. He just happened to be a good student that required more patience. Somewhat, it made you warm to learn that about him, including the fact he was good at listening, or how his eyes lit up picking up a lesson and recalling from memory. However, you kept this situation mostly professional, avoiding social interactions that would take away from your role. That was until Chan found comfort in spending time with you, having a sense of gratitude much grander than anyone teaching him Aldol reactions or valence electrons.

You could feel his soft gaze as you outlined something on his study sheet, emphasizing its importance since it’s appearing in the final he’d be taking eventually. If this were you back in the days of learning his name for the first time and thinking about him every waking second, you’d faint right about now. You’d be lying right now if you said you didn’t feel dizzy from the heat of his presence, but as you have been for the time spent together in the library, you’ve trained yourself to ignore it while mastering to subdue your intrusive thoughts.

Chan somehow found a way around that.

“Oh, your ring. Looks like the one in my parents' shop.”

You momentarily glanced back at the trinket before zone backing into today’s lesson, awkwardly chuckling to yourself. “Oh. Ha ha, that’s because it is.”

His eyes lit up the way they do, a cartoonish gleam in his eyes. “Really? I think I’d remember seeing you.”

“It was once a really long time ago.”

“Well, you should visit again. I can give you a good discount. We just got a big shipment of pop rocks.”

“Okay, sure.” You smiled, internally giggling at the thought of Chan entertaining himself with explosive candy and sharing it with you like the coolest treasure. “Alright. Organic compounds—“

“We really met before?” He interrupted.

“It really was so long ago. I’d be surprised if you did remember.”

“Well, I feel bad. I feel like there’s time it should be making up.”

You waved it off, not minding the now teary expression of guilt on his face. “It’s fine, Chan.”

“How about we go and watch a movie? I think the drive thru is replaying ‘The Godfather’. You should come with me.”

“Really? I don’t know.”

“Come on, consider it a thanks. You don’t even get paid for all the time you’ve spent teaching me.”

“No, but I get community hours. Speaking of teaching.” He placed his hand over yours, cuffing off the words caught in your throat. You find yourself helpless at the sweat pleas of Chan who works the cute angle all too well as he scooted closer to you. “I don’t think I can rest knowing I haven’t found a way to thank you. You’ve been tutoring me for 4 months. The least I can do is take you out.”

You’re a bit stunned, your leg already shaking in nerves as you never expected such a proposal to easily leave his lips and for you nonetheless. You exhaled, mustering the courage to meet his eyes before nothing, pressing your lips to discourage an all too gleeful smile. “Fine. We’ll watch ‘The Godfather’.”

He let you go, beaming, and tracking his pencil tracking over his notebook filled with chicken scratch that was comprehensible to him. “Good, I can pick you up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated before gluing his eyes back on the textbook, a noticeable hue of peak creeping up the back of his neck. “So, organic compounds...”

This arrangement was all you could think about until the day of, reading and rereading your magazines for possible outfit ideas, dating tips, and anything with the potential of making the best of this nerve-wracking situation.

On the day of, you got in your best get up just in time for the meetup. Anxiously, you turned your mood ring around your finger as you waited by the door, contemplating to yourself if what you chose was the right course of action. When the knock came, you came swinging the door open and pinched yourself from swooning seeing him in casual attire, including jeans that hugged his hips just right.

Chan, on the other hand, didn’t hide his emotions. Bright and animated, you grew hot under his watch, fiddling with the mood ring now on your middle finger and seeing it glare back a yellowish orange, indicating how nervous you really were. He took cautious steps towards you, mouth falling in awe, and he tugged at his band tee, which now felt lackluster compared to what his eyes were now seeing. “You look really good. I feel underdressed.”

“No, no,” you said, shaking your head and stepping down from the porch. “I just threw something on.”

“Well,” he offered an elbow, “shall we?”

You accepted his offer and hooked it through, hiding your elation. “Of course.”

He escorted you to the car and guided you to the passenger seat before closing the door, allowing you a moment to swallow the spaciousness of his station wagon before heading off to the theater. 

Cars beside cars, people neither mingling, making out, or taking advantage of the concession stands with 25-cent popcorn and pop. The sun was in the process of setting before it became a violet hue and eventually pitch black, perfect for movies. You got out of the car and smoothed out the wrinkles of your outfit, taking another deep breath.

You only had a fleeting second seeing him come out from the driver's seat, a smile settling on his face for what felt like you and only you.

Then came the hoard. Voices calling out Chan’s name, boys and girls his age gathered around him, offering his gregarious greetings and rowdy conversation. They hounded him with hugs, not minding you who stood off from the side behind the cat. Your expression dropped, starting from your smile before spreading over your body language. Chan, remembering your existence, tugged you from the hood and brought you to his side. He briefly introduced you as his tutor, and you did your best to greet them back just as politely.

They nodded at you, sly faces towards Chan as if you wouldn’t notice, and then came their bombarding again, only this time in your presence. You kept up the calm facade, only laughing when necessary before turning to the person who brought you here. “Nice to meet you all. Hey, Chan. I’m gonna get some snacks.”

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

You didn’t let the disappointment show on your face as you walked away but let it fall free as your back was towards the group. You hear their teasing and playful banter, questioning if you’re really just his tutor and Chan confirming, leaving no implication for anything else. You crossed your arms in embarrassment, already regretting letting this situation occur, imagining the worst scenarios to come.

You quietly asked for popcorn and a grape pop, greeted with your refreshments a few moments later, along with a box of raisinets. Your lips parted in confusion. “Oh, I didn’t order these.”

“On the house,” the guy winked, leaning over the counter a little too close for comfort, “a secret promotion for cuties like yourself.”

“Ah,” you gave him a tight-lipped grin, visibly distancing yourself, “thanks.”

“You know, I can always sneak away from my post for little liplock in—“

“Hey, you doing alright? I was worried about you.” You didn’t have to look to know. His body came crashing into yours. An arm slung over your shoulder, an action almost as natural as breathing. “Do you have enough?”

Your eyes flickered toward Chan who came to your rescue, nodding curtly. “Huh? Y-yeah.”

Chan met the seller's eyes before accepting your purchase for you, handing you over only the popcorn. You stared at the box of raisinets before he tugged you away from the stand.

“I did good, right? I’ve been told that guy’s a creep. I didn’t know he worked here.” His whisper sent chills through your body, yet burned your ears. You could feel the fanning of his breath, tickling your skin and raising every hair in your body.

“Me neither.”

“He’s not a good guy. You see him around, walk in the other direction ok?”

You nodded, taking his advice into serious thought. “Thanks, Chan.”

When it’s clear you’re out of sight, he parted from you, keeping his hands down his pockets, visibly apologetic. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable with that. He just won’t let it go unless he finds out you have a boyfriend or something.”

“Mmh-hmm.”

“Let’s get back to the others, hmm?”

You spent most of the night with Chan and his friends. Some laughed at how cheesy the movie was or actually scared of what was actually occurring (Chan was a mix between the two). You’d enjoy it more if you weren’t a bit bothered by the circumstances. All you could was glance in Chan's direction while he smiled and laughed along with his friends. Even though you were sitting next to him in the same car hood, you never felt further away. Every direction tonight felt like a punch in the gut, having only spoken to him before the movie started. At this point, you felt as if you had no place here, blinking away the humiliation tears threatening to fall.

“I’m a little cold. so I’m gonna finish the movie in the car.”

Finally, his eyes landed on you, “What?”

You slid off the hood and dusted yourself. Chan followed behind you confused before seating himself inside the car with you, a worried expression on his face. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not.” You splayed a less genuine smile, raising your cheekbones for good measure, but seeing its failure to convince otherwise.

“That means I did do something wrong,” he said, smiling bitterly. “Sorry. I’m not the best at picking up cues.”

“I told you, Chan. I just got cold.”

He sighed and turned to reach for something behind, pulling over something thick and warm over your body, covering your torso and legs. “Here. So you won’t catch anything.”

There’s that familiar clang to your heart you should be used to by now, following the marching band that typically arrives after inside your chest. “Thank you.”

You both sat in silence for a bit, continuing to watch the rest of the movie. He makes so attempt to communicate with his friends outside and he doesn’t smile, only focusing on the movie, insistent on being in your presence. You aren’t sure how to behave, fingers inching at lingering awkwardness.

“If I’m being honest,” You started saying, filling the charged air with something other than tension, “I didn’t expect to see that many people with us.”

“You didn’t?”

You shook your head. “I misunderstood all on my own. Don’t worry about it. Let’s just finish the movie.”

“Hey—“

“I’m feeling warmer already,” You said, grinning as yourself deeper into the blanket.

Your eyes were ready to train back in the movie before he spoke again, hearing a tone in his voice you weren’t all that familiar with. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable alone with me. I guess I did anyway.”

Guilt festered in the out of your stomach, regretting making a big scene out of nothing. “That’s not—“

“I got scared,” he admitted, the corner of his lips quirking up in a self-loathing grin. “They already saw my tickets so they thought they would get some too. Make it a group thing. I didn’t want it initially, but I thought, maybe it’d make things easier…I should’ve run it by you.”

You met his eyes, earnest yet soft. You didn’t know how to respond to any of this, processing his confession slowly. A fit of emotions wash over him and you see now the inner conflict that he had dealt with, somehow washing you over with relief. The final deep exhale you let out was solace, thinking to yourself how situations like this only happen in movies and books. You’re warm all over, an overwhelming urge to reach over and hug him, a fellow rambling mess.

“You didn’t misunderstand anything. I did want to go to the movies with you, but I wasn’t sure if you felt pressure or—“

You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his. He stiffened under your touch, blinking back at you like a lost child. You smiled back at him from ear to ear and body leaned over on his side. “Just hold my hand. We’re not going to cause any more misunderstandings. Okay?”

He matched you, his pearly whites staring back at you as pretty as ever. “Okay.” His thumb caressed over your fingers, noticing something interesting as he did so. “It’s purple.”

“Hmm,” You looked down at your clasped hands, noticing that same thing he did: your mood ring in a solid rich purple. “It is.”

“Do you remember what purple means?”

You avoid edhis eyes, quietly laughing to yourself. “You know better than anyone.”

“I do.” He tightened his grip, head leaning against your shoulder and it felt as if time had stopped. You don’t doubt that he can hear your heart racing right or your uneven breathing. He turned the ring around your digit, watching how the colors periodically shift. “I won’t let there be any more misunderstandings.”

Since that incident, you went about your tutoring sessions as normal, with the additional intimacy that didn’t exist before. You both gradually developed these sessions into more study dates and then they became real dates. Things only became official when the semester finally ended and he continued wanting to see you, visiting your place whenever you got the chance using any possible excuse.

You could remember how happy you felt at the time. The relief there was to know he liked you back. It was almost as if you were living a dream. A damn perfect dream.

Then your first kiss came around. You were as nervous as anyone anticipating the first. Every doubt in the past didn’t matter, only now did. Everything all led up to this point. It just happened in the way you least expected it to.

You didn’t know why he insisted on teaching you how to play arcade games when he was just as bad. Still, it was cute seeing him try so hard. The firmness of his back followed your movement, guiding you to the right combos, shifting the joystick to move in the right direction, and although it was all wrong, you appreciated the back hug you were getting in return. Even the claw machine had to be a teaching lesson, insisting he had something to teach you. 

“I did it. Chan, I did it!” You saw the stuffed dinosaur grabbed by the metal prongs, dropping right into the winner’s slot. You bounced on your feet cheering and took Chan along with you, hugging him tightly as your inner child healed and squealed at your achievement.

“I knew you could! You’re amazing.” His strong arms came around you firmly, pressing you against the glass of the machine.

Your breath was seized, replaced with weightlessness and tension in your chest that doesn’t seem to want to leave and perhaps you didn’t want it to. Although he didn’t pull away from the embrace, he parted far enough to meet your eyes and the longing in them. He knew what it was because that’s what was in his eyes, falling into their trance like a lucid dream that had him higher than any recreational drug. Neither one of you was willing to let it go, so all you do is stare. Stare at each other like you’re in your own world and no one else’s. As if life as you know it ceased to exist except for you and Chan. Nothing else matters.

When it felt as if you could imagine a more perfect moment, he leaned in with closed eyes, finding your lips like they were a second home and stealing your breath. You thought to lean in to kiss him deeper, but he already had found his grasp and pressed into you closer against the glass, feeling every ounce of muscle and shape of his body beneath his clothes. His shallow breath against yours, his hug of lips pulling at your bottom lip, and he emitted a soft grunt.

He pulled away from you with his arms still wrapped around your sides, shocked by his impulsivity. He stroked the side of your head, scanning for any fear in your eyes, slightly relieved to see any in sight. “I’m sorry. That was…a lot, huh?”

You shook your head reassuringly. “No.”

“Then I can kiss you again?”

The corners of your lips turned up, gripping his jean jacket to pull him closer. “Yes.”

You were kissing for hours that day and the next day, and then again the day after. Since then, something has shifted and these teenage dreams turned reality into something less family friendly. Your nights in his dorm became more frequent, more intimate, and always backed by a melody thanks to a record player gifted to him by his dad when he moved out. His prized possession, besides you anyway, as he claimed.

“What do you want to be when you’re older,” he asked, dragging his digits in and out between yours. He smiled, noticing your mood ring turning a mix of pink and purple before kissing your knuckles. “You know I want to be a nurse. What’s your dream?”

In the background was Led Zeppelin, their intoxically addictive tune spinning on the table. You thought to yourself a bit before turning your head back up at him, nuzzling closer into his warm touch before answering. “I want…to be surrounded by the people I love.”

He laughed like he heard the sweetest thing on planet Earth before his fingers threaded through your hair. “Baby, that’s sweet but not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant, but it’s what I want. It doesn’t matter much what I do, as long as I’m with my loved ones.”

“Am I one of these loved ones? Do you love me?” 

“Yeah. I love you.” You didn’t even hesitate, the words were always on the tip of your tongue until that final push. You lifted alight above him to repeat yourself louder. You let him heed your words. “I think I really love you.”

You thought he’d react differently, more scared and unsure but—“I love you too.”

“Chan,” you smile, warm filling your inside as you let your breath chase away the race in your chest.

“I mean it.” He bent his head down to meet your lips, cupping your cheek with the warmth of his palm. “I really, really love you.”

Chan toppled over you, lips meeting yours repeatedly in a heated frenzy, caressing your body and holding you desperately against him as you did the same to him. He kept you between his legs, whispering it over and over, ‘I love you, I love you,’ blistering and marking your skin. How was it that made you feel as if you weren’t allowed to breathe? 

Before you realize it, clothes started coming off. Piece by piece. As ‘Babe I’m gonna leave you’ replayed, shirts, belt, pants, and everything underneath fell to the ground. You saw him. You saw all of him. And he saw all of you. Your instinct was to shield away, be conscious of your then and there but in his own way, he reassures you, speaking to you as though all his words were nothing but the earnest truth. “I’m here. You’ll never have to worry about me not being here. I love you so much.”

Your flesh spilled through his fingers, imprinting his hands through your nude. Sounds of worship leaving his lips between every kiss, not even the worry of lack of condoms could stop him. Your thighs were glued to his hips, and you felt the warmth of his length titter to your fresh heat. You moaned every time you met lips, every bite he gave to your skin, and every full twist his fingers made with your sensitive buds before filling the inside of his oral cavity of your full breast.

You ached to have him in you, hand barely reaching his girth before wrapping a tight wrist around him. He shuddered at your touch, thrusting through the circle of your palm. You felt the need in his movement as he grinded down on his couch, not minding the wool burn inevitable to be left behind. Weak chuckles escaped his lips and he flashed you a smile, seconds away from melting into helpless groans. “You know just how to handle me…”

“Only because you treat me so well.”

Kissing one breast and then the other, he reached your lips as he held your thighs against the sides of his torso. “And I’ll do it for as long as I’m alive.”

You looped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself against him, his warm breath tickling the tip of your nose. “Make love to me. I wanna feel you inside me.”

“Then I won’t wait a second longer.”

The moment you felt him inside you, you felt higher than anything you could find in a blunt offered by the shady next-door neighbor. You buckled into him, lifting your hips off the couch for a fully bloomed taste. The stretch he left had your jaw falling, clutching to his shoulder, and letting out exasperated breaths. You nearly choked on your own spit that had only forced it down when he picked up the pace.

You molten walls only sucked him in deeper, calling his name in blurred whines. Each thrust and each kiss was fueled by an undying passion. He carried you, palm to your back and your legs around his waist, and pulled you on top of him. From beneath you, he drilled your insides, meeting your longing expression. 

Your fingers draped over his face, and you held on to his blissful expression that occasionally dropped in anguish when chasing after his rhythm. You whined his name desperately, clinging to him as you dug down your hips down his lap. He moaned louder than before, gingerly cupping your breasts and finding your stiff nipples between his fingers.

“You feel so good taking me…and your tits are so soft and warm.” He pushed himself to thrust hard, pleased with how easily you easily bounced against him, watching your flesh moving loud and fluidly like water. “You’re so perfect to hold, and love, and fuck my dick into—shit.”

Your chest rose and fell catching up with his efforts. “Chan, I love you so much.”

“I love you too. So, so, so—fuck!”

You felt his grip grow tighter and saw his jaw drop lower. His legs clenched to your sides impulsively, unwilling to let go. Soon enough, he couldn’t take it anymore and came inside you. He looked as if everything in his brain told him not to, but it seemed that nothing could stop the geyser within him from coating your insides with hot ivory. He snapped into you in an erratic rhythm, cum spilled in you and out of him until it stained the wool underneath.

Chan was red in the face, both in embarrassment and heat. He looked up at you in panic at the direness of circumstance considering neither one of you thought to stay protected. “Shit, fuck,” he exclaimed still pumping inside you, “you feel so good. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, bending down to kiss him. “It’s okay, just don’t stop…please…”

His stressed expression melted, as did his fingers into your skin. He caressed over your sides with love in his eyes, swallowing nervously. “Really, baby? That ok?”

Perspiration coated his skin, beading down his adam’s apple as it bobbed. You felt like mush in his touch, letting your hips make use of the natural lubricant. Your boyfriend groaned at the sound of the slick moisture sliding over his skin. You cupped his face in your hands, working your jaw in a needy liplock. “Yes, please. Fuck your cum in me, please.”

His fingers tensed, dragging your lips to slap down on his. He exhaled slowly, your walls hugging his cock erect. He asked in a breathy voice, “Fuck my cum in you…my pretty girlfriend wants something so dirty done to her?”

“Yes, yes, please…” You whined.

He slammed up into you, feeling how he’s already bottoming out inside you. Hearing you moan his name lit a fire beneath him and he rolled you on your back to rut in you like a merciless animal. 

“You want my cum in you, hmm? Fill you up with my cum and put my fat load in you?”

You jerked in the opposite direction, your skin smacking against each other causing the tenderness of your skin. “Yes, please,” You choked out, “I want it all with you.”

His lips picked up from the corner in a smirk, turning you back over to plant you against the couch while his feet finally touched the ground. “You want it all? Like a life? A family? You want me to build a family with me…have me fuck my babies into you?”

“Yes, baby, please. I want you to fill me up so I can make you a daddy.”

“You love me that much?” He slammed into you with a proud smile. “You love me so much you see your future with daddy?”

You batted your lashes back at him. “I see every day either full of joy or full of your cum inside me.”

He snickered before biting his lips in a filthy moan, “Such a dirty mouth on the mother of my kids.”

You’re spent by the time your legs gave out, and you and your boyfriend exhausted your bodies to the point you couldn’t move even an inch off the couch. Cum seeped out of your holes like sap, only halted as you pressed your legs together to get comfortable. Chan had barely enough energy to tug a blanket off from behind him and throw it over your bodies. You smiled into his warmth, nuzzling into his chest, and inhaling his lusty musk. 

You moaned in satisfaction. “Mmh, I like this…”

“Me too.” He hummed.

“I never want this to end.”

“And it won’t,” he said, kissing the temple of your forehead.

“Are you hungry?”

You moaned. “Starving.”

He chuckled, holding you closer to him as his voice dropped an octave. “Let’s fill you up with something, hmm?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you lightly shoved him. “Chan…”

“Food, babe,” he said with a cheeky smile, “get your mind out of the gutter.”

After a quick shower, and a few wet kisses in between, you’re set to refresh yourselves with some fast food and can’t help but be filled with elation. You cozied into the passenger seat accepting the hand he’s offered as the other steadied the wheel. You can’t help but notice how he glanced every now and then when he shouldn’t, making you nudge him to fix his gaze.

It was always a loving one, one that you’d forever burn in your memory. You don’t even know why, but you shed a tear looking at it. That smile of his seems to go on for miles and brightens your day like the morning sun. You felt it in your heart. Something suffocating that you couldn’t describe but all you think in your head is that this was love and that loving Chan would be the easiest thing you could do.

He sent you another glance before making a turn, one a little longer than the few before, then all you heard was a loud blaring honk, your voice screaming his name, and then your vision went pitch black. You stared into darkness. Emptiness. Nothing was in sight. 

That was until your eyes were open again. You woke in a place of all white, smelling of antiseptic and a hint of febreeze. You slowly blinked, scanning the room, unmoving. Still, in fact.

“Good afternoon, Sunshine. Sleep well?”

You only could see who entered when they walked in your field of vision. Your eyes stared in shock at the sight of your boyfriend, smiling back at you in scrubs as he wrote away in his clipboard and looking as if he hadn’t aged a day. You internally screamed at your body to move, crying from within the inside at the inability, and then soon growing tired, realizing it’d never be possible. As he put away documents in a file holder pinned to the high wall, you stressed your throat to speak, hoping for the least a sound to follow, but instead, it was your silence.

“I’ll just open the blinds a bit, make sure they’re not too much light in your eyes. Too bad your nap was a little long. The weather was so good. I thought we could roll you out into the garden.”

You are losing your mind. The last thing you could remember was a car accident that felt like mere seconds ago and staring into the eyes of the man before you, who matched the love in your eyes. Now you’re imprisoned in your own immobile body, with no clue why and how the love of your life survived when you barely did.

“Your heart is pounding. Wait a second.”

Chan strode over to the monitor just out of view, forcing yourself to rely on your peripheral to watch him. His side profile and his body were all within reach but unassessable. You felt the sweat of your palm through the sheer determination alone, but to no avail, he stayed away from your grasp.

“Hmm, we’ll have to figure that out.”

Finishing up, he stood in front of you like a figure of light radiating brightness unfathomable to man. A light bright enough to fully grasp your reality. Your true reality.

That’s right. He’s not your boyfriend. You were never together.

You’ve been the way you were for two years, by a car accident nonetheless. This was Nurse Lee–your caretaker and nurse–who insisted you call him by name and talked to you as if you could talk right back. 

And this wasn’t the 1970s. It was the 2070s. 

Your gaze quickly turned to “Three's a Company” playing on the highly advanced TV plastered on the wall, momentarily surprised that they still had the show on cable, before snapping right back to your nurse, now going on about the daily work gossip. You couldn’t help but stare again, watching his handsome face turn up in a smile every time something delightful popped into his pretty little head as he spoke. Your eyes fluttered in remorse, a familiar sinking feeling in your chest as you inhaled and exhaled through your breathing tubes.

It all made so much sense. Too much in fact. Here you were in dreamland living in disbelief that someone as sweet and kind and Charming as Lee Chan—nurse Lee Chan—would ever be someone so madly in love with you. You lived a happy and healthy and normal life in your dreams, shutting off from the dark truth of your world is, as if you’ve never been in this accident. You dreamt of life before it was taken away before you narrowly escaped death.

If you could call this escaping death anyway. You were practically dead.

And perhaps the worst part—

“Vivian liked the flowers you suggested. I think she’ll finally stop being mad at me thanks to you.” 

He gently moved your head to fluff the pillow behind you and placed you back on top. He brushed away a hair that strayed over your face, and you felt a sensation pulse through your fingers. “I wish you could meet her. You’ve always been there to listen to me talk about the wedding planning, the bridal stuff, and then the actual wedding. I hope you liked the photos, the guy we hired was—phew—a pretty penny.”

You started to blink rapidly, seeing your reality crumbling before you, and all he could do was look as devastatingly beautiful as always, even with the dark circle under his eyes from long hours of work. 

“I talk a lot, huh? That’s what you’re thinking. Sorry, you’ve always been a listener, not that you can help it.” He chuckled to himself. “Sorry, dark joke. I’m sure if you could move now, you’d laugh.”

No, you wouldn’t.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a second. Don’t worry.” 

He did the last round of his thorough check-up of your room before standing by the door with his clipboard in hand. Clicking his pen, he turned back to you one last time with a smile now turned bittersweet.

“Any day now. Your heart pulses a little faster every day. Your family is waiting for you. And because I’ve grown attached to you I’m waiting for you too. Maybe after all this, we could be friends, then you can tell me how much you love or hate when I talk to you. Just as long as you’re up and running again.”

The moment the door closed, you were alone again. The fluid built in your tear ducts finally found their escape and streamed down your still face, facing their discomforting warmth. Your chest heaved, your grew breaths shallow, your throat went dry, and suddenly your lips quivered. In solitude and sheer desperation, you said your first words in years.

“Chan…come…back…”

But it didn’t matter.

#svthub #dino smut #seventeen smut #dino fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen #lee chan smut #lee chan fluff #lee chan #dino #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen dino #seventeen lee chan #seventeen chan #dino x reader #dino x you #dino x y/n

[some-weebs-posts]

Ok, so I've been obsessed with Monster High since it came out, and my favorite character has always been Jackson Jekyll. And you know what? Not only is he an underrated character, but like, they made his background super detailed and complicated for like no reason. I couldn't tell you how many times I've gone on long rants trying to explain it all.

Think of this like a combination of different wikis. This is based on Generation 1, the movies from Boo York Boo York and previous, the diaries, the webisodes, and some of the books. I have not watched anything from Gen 2 or 3, which really doesn't matter because Jackson isn't in any of the reboots.

Basic Information

Jackson Jekyll and Holt Hyde are two people in the same body. They have different memories and different personalities.

Jackson Jekyll is 16 years old. His favorite color is yellow, his favorite food is mac & cheese, and his birthday is May 30th.

Holt Hyde is 16 years old. His favorite color is orange, his favorite food is hot wings, and his birthday is May 30th.

They both have a pet chameleon named Crossfade.

Jackson is a bit of a nerdy type. He enjoys wearing bow ties and sweater vests. He likes to play video games. He's crazy smart, and his favorite subject is Mad Science.

Holt has a rocker style with his everyday outfit being a red leather jacket and purple pants. He also shows more of their fire elemental side than Jackson, so he incorporates flames in all his outfits as well. He loves music, so he always wears headphones (not to mention that later becomes his trigger), and music theory is his favorite subject. He has a hot temper and can become angry very easily.

Jackson Jekyll is their default character. However, he transforms into Holt due to different triggers. His original trigger was it being either day or night where he was Jackson during the day and Holt at night. Later, his trigger changed to music with a 4/4 time signature, which is most music. In the diaries, Jackson states that his doctor believes the trigger will change at least one more time, and he is deathly afraid it will be something important that he can't avoid like taking a shower.

Jackson and Holt did not know of each other's existences until they were 16. Since their memories were different, they thought they had consistent black outs. Holt considered it just a way of life and how it was, but in the books, Jackson (thanks to the suggestion of Melody Carver) thought is was due to his extreme anxiety.

Family

Jackson Jekyll is the son of Dr. and Mrs. Jekyll.

Holt Hyde is the son of Mr. and Mrs. Hyde.

Jackson was born half normie (mom) and half monster (dad). The thing is, his dad is not the Jekyll/Hyde. That's his mom. His mom is the normie half of the Jekyll and Hyde combo. His dad is a fire elemental.

Holt is a full monster. His mother is the Hyde, and his father is a fire elemental.

This makes Jackson and Holt half-brothers. They have different moms but the same dad.

They know they have different moms or at least more than one mom. They call her Moms in the books and diaries. Their mom (in both versions of Jekyll and Hyde as far as I can tell) is named Sydney, who is a science teacher at Merston High and likes to go by Mrs. J.

That adds on another layer because that means his dad took his mom's last name, AND his dad's last name changes depending on who his wife is because he married both the Jekyll and the Hyde. So does that mean every time he is asked his name, the dad has to be like, "I don't know. Let me call my wife,"? Like, does he just change his name every day or is he just Dr. Jekyll by default and then changes his name if he gets a call from his wife? And he's not Dr. Hyde but Mr. Hyde, so does he loses his doctorate when his wife goes crazy?

Anyway, Jackson and Holt are cousins with Heath and Harmony Burns. Harmony is Heath's older sister. Their mother is Jackson and Holt's dad's sister aka their aunt.

Friends

Jackson's best friend is Deuce Gorgon.

Jackson first met Deuce in the diaries where they played some pick-up casketball. Then, they met-met and actually started to hang out after the webisode Fear Pressure. In the episode, Jackson had started to attend Monster High but was being bullied for being a normie (or at least appearing as one), so Deuce decided to take pity on him and let him sit at his and Heath's lunch table. Later on, Deuce introduced him to others like Gil.

When they first moved to their neighborhood, which made them change schools and start attending Monster High, Jackson only became Holt during the night, so Jackson was the first one to meet their neighbors. One time, Draculaura made him a welcome-to-the-neighborhood cake, and when he returned the tin, he met Dracula of which he was not afraid and actually made a joke about stakes. This was considered weird because both normies and monsters were afraid of Dracula, for in the diaries, he was described as being like a creepy, no-nonsense Nosferatu. Later, Draculaura invited him to Clawdeen's Boo-B-Que where he met The Wolfs.

During the night, Holt would come out and walk around. There, he studied his neighbor's houses and saw them very occasionally.

Holt actually went and became a DJ with the nickname DJ Hyde. While working a party, he met Draculaura. She was dancing the Transylvania Trance. He thought she was attractive and approached her by calling her Ula D, but she became confused because they had never met before.

That adds on another thing. Apparently, they can share some memories.

Romances

Jackson and Holt had many romances.

In the books, Jackson went to Merston High. There, he met a siren named Melody Carver. They started to date, but Melody met Cleo, because Cleo also went to this school for some reason, and they hated each other. So to get Melody jealous, Cleo ended up kissing Jackson. But he felt nothing for her. Then Melody started a band and revealed Holt, which started a love triangle except Jackson didn't know about Holt, so he didn't know what she was upset about. They ended up breaking up where she then got with a gargoyle named Granite who was also into music, but unfortunately their relationship never went anywhere, and Melody and Granite never became official.

Then there was Draculaura. Jackson and Holt both liked her, but she only ever tried to date Jackson. She said in one of her diaries that they ended up "breaking up", even though they were never officially dating, because he never went to their evening dates and could never remember exactly why he didn't the next morning. Little did they know it was because of Holt.

Then there was Frankie. She slowly fell in love with him over the course of Volume II of the webisodes in episodes such as Miss Information, Hyde Your Heart, and Hyde and Shriek. She originally liked Jackson because he was the new kid, and she was fairly new too and remembered how hard it was. She even stood up against his bully, Manny Taur. But then she met Holt and became conflicted because she thought she liked both of them and had to choose between them. After she found out they were the same person, she introduced them to each other, which is how they found out about each other in the first place. She then would record them talking on her phone so that they could talk to each other, but that got old fast, so she gave them separate phones specifically for texting each other. She decided they couldn't date until they got over their differences.

There was Operetta. In the diaries, Holt said that he liked that she liked music, so they went on a date at a concert. But then Holt got angry at someone, and due to his anger issues, he got into a fight. He and Operetta were kicked out. Her dad did not like that, and they weren't allowed to date anymore.

Then there was Clair. Clair is my personal favorite and is my OTP. In the movie Ghouls Rule, Holt got arrested while he and other monsters were vandalizing the normie school of New Salem High. He transformed back into Jackson while in jail, so they let him go thinking that Holt somehow kidnapped Jackson and swapped places with him. He became a fugitive, so Jackson hid by attending New Salem High. There, he met Clair. She stood up to bullies for him and even later defended him against the police after they captured him and tried to behead him (and no, I'm not joking). They had a discussion at the end where Holt commented that while Jackson and him don't agree on much, at least they can agree on women. He tried to kiss her, but she swapped him to Jackson first and then kissed him because, well, she didn't know him that well yet. She's an anti-police, anti-racism/speciesism, goth baddie, and I love her for that.

Side Notes

Despite being a huge nerd, Jackson is actually really good at sports. Jackson and Deuce only initially became friends because of a game of casketball. In Deuce's diary, he went to the court to play, but only saw "a lame human kid" aka Jackson. He was initially going to ignore him, but then Jackson asked to play. Then it turned out that Jackson could play very well. Quote, "I was gonna slide out of there, but he asked if I wanted to play some one on one. I figured it wouldn't take long to make him look like a statue out there, but I was wrong. He had a scary good jump shot and even crossed me over a couple times. I had just started to play really hard when my glasses got knocked off and broke. Now I have to figure out a way to get home without stoning someone, but dude just took off his shades and handed them over to me. He said to keep them until I got home and he'd get them later. Told me his name is Jackson Jekyll. He said he wants a rematch. I told him any time, any place. Not a bad guy...for a human." Also, in Friday Night Frights, Jackson attempted to join the roller maze team before he was stopped by Manny Taur. Edit: I just remembered he also plays volleyball in the Gloom Beach line.

Additionally, Jackson and Holt have facial piercings and tattoos. This is very rare and somewhat strange given they are only 16 and would at least need parent's permission for the tattoos. The only other G1 characters that have tattoos, that I know of, are Operetta and Wisp from 13 Wishes. The only other characters with facial piercings, not counting ear piercings, are Clair, Cleo, and Manny Taur as Cleo has the gem under her eye, Clair has a classic lip piercing, and Manny has a septum piercing. Jackson has one tattoo of a Ying & Yang symbol on his back, and he has an eyebrow piercing on his left eyebrow. Holt has two tattoos with the same Yin & Yang tattoo and an additional face tattoo around his eye. He also has a left eyebrow piercing.

The tattoos admittedly confuse me because the fact that Jackson doesn't have one of Holt's tattoos may imply that they got the tattoos separately, so they both just so happened to pick the same tattoo and then Holt got one extra. Also, their parents had to sign off on allowing their 16 year old son to be allowed to have a face tattoo.

Edit: Some people have mentioned that Holt's face tattoo may actually be a birthmark due it being mentioned in one of the diaries. However, this doesn't make sense to me because Jackson does not have a birthmark. So like many, I believe this mention of it being a birthmark was only added after they made the design as an excuse, and it should be left up for interpretation.

That's alI can think of for now. Info may change later, but that's the story of The Strange Case of Jackson Jekyll and Holt Hyde.

#monster high #jackson jekyll #holt hyde #heath burns #deuce gorgon #draculaura #operetta #i should go to bed #friday night frights

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buck & Eddie: CANON Buddie in Season 7???

In the season 7 promo pictures, Chris is wearing blue and green.

Before I delve into this, please note these are MY OBSERVATIONS AND INTERPRETATIONS OF THE MEDIA I'M CONSUMING. Therefore, I'm not basing them on anyone else's interpretations.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming...

After the updated promo pictures of the main cast were released a few minutes ago, I noticed the hoodie Chris is wearing is a combination of green, blue and teal which includes all the colors the couples wore in 6x13. Also, his shoes have blue and green on them.

Why is this important?

Well... it's important because in that episode every ship/couple wore variations of those colors.

Bathena wore them at the end of the episode.

Henren wore them too, not once but twice.

The first time was after Hen took Denny home from the hospital. Hen's pants had blue in them, Karen's shirt was blue and green and Denny was wearing an Army green sweatsuit.

They wore them again when Toni went to their home later in the episode. Hen's shirt was green, Karen's was blue and Toni wore a blue shirt too (she's Hen's mother and Denny's grandmother).

Madney wore the colors as well.

They wore them during the sting at their home when Athena and the LAPD were there to apprehend Rhonda Fitzsimmons, the coupon lady.

And yes, Buddie wore the colors too but a key point to remember is ALL THE OTHER SHIPS ARE ALREADY CANON!

By process of elimination, it's unlikely Chris is wearing a hoodie with the colors the CANON couples wore for anyone other than Buck and Eddie, especially since he's Eddie’s son and Buck’s his legal guardian (in the event Eddie passes away). After they become a couple, Chris will have two dads.

In 6x13 Buck wore light blue, Eddie wore army green and Chris wore teal (which is a combination of blue and green but the colors must be the right shades of blue and green to make teal).

IMO, in 6x13, the shades of their shirts represented how Buck and Eddie are in the early stages of a romantic relationship. I DO NOT believe it represents a divorce era for them for lots of reasons (that I will post about later) but mainly because later in the season, in 6x17, Buck and Eddie wore blue and green again. But the shades were darker, more worn and Buck's hoodie and Eddie's shirt looked comfortable (the way they are in their partnership). I've interpreted this to mean they're ALREADY relaxed and comfortable in their work PARTNERSHIP because they've been partners for more than 5 years and the shades of blue and green they wore perfectly represented the state of their partnership while the shades they wore in 6x13 represented they were at the beginning stages of romance.

Reminder, their shirts were lighter shades of blue and green when they were at the loft with Chris and he was wearing a shirt that was the perfect blend of the colors of their shirts.

In 5x13, Eddie wore a green shirt and Buck’s shirt was blue. 🤪😜

Also, in 5x14, when they went to Equine Therapy, they wore colors that were also a perfect blend. Buck’s jacket was black and brown, Eddie’s jacket was brown and his shirt was gray and Chris' hoodie was gray to match Eddie's shirt🤪😜.

They're a family your honor!

Don't forget, no other ship's/couple's child(ren) are included in the main cast photo and Chris is wearing the same hoodie in it that he wore in his individual promo picture.

So, the question is, if Buddie going CANON isn't a possibility in season 7, then why is Chris in the photo with all the first responders and why is he wearing blue and green?

Reminder they could have put him in any other color. He could have worn all blue or he could have been in red like Maddie but no, the colors he's wearing appear to be intentional!

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #madney #bathena #henren #911 spoilers #911 speculation #911 season 7 #911 season 7 speculation #911 abc #911 on abc #911 meta

[froggyfics]

Neon

Your first date with Dick makes you nervous. 

THANK YOU TO THIS BRAVE ANON! For the life of me, I cannot figure out how to format your message request into this post, so I replied to you separately. You are my first ever request and can I say, thank you so much for choosing a fluffy topic! Don’t get me wrong, I love me some angst, but I’m a sad bitch, so angst comes super easy to me. This entire blog is about me trying to become a better writer, so thank you for choosing fluff because it really challenged me. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! 

I categorized this as a fem!reader, just because I mentioned “girl” once in this fic. So, I hope that those who prefer gender neutral readers will still enjoy this. 

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome! 

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

Theme: Fluff

Word Count: 1,759

His arm was deceivingly muscular. You couldn’t help but squeeze his bicep a few times. You know, in the name of science. Who knew that Dick Grayson was this muscular? The biting winter night forced you two to bundle up. The weather called for sweaters, gloves, hats, jackets, boots, the whole nine yards. Even through the bundles of clothes he was wearing, you could still feel his muscles underneath. 

You decide on just one more squeeze. For scientific purposes, of course! One more squeeze and you’ll stop oogling. Both hands were wrapped around his upper arm. You tighten your grip and - 

Oop! He flexes his bicep! Your blush as you realize you’ve been caught in the act. Dick laughs heartily when you whine and smush your face into his arm in embarrassment. 

“I’m so-I mean- uhm-that was embarrassing,” you stutter.

“It’s fiiiinnnne,” he drawls. “I work out so much so that pretty girls like you can appreciate this.” He nudges the arm that you are latched onto for emphasis.

If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely were now. Dick Grayson thinks you’re pretty? Even if this is your first and last date with him, you were absolutely going to tell everyone around you that the Dick Grayson called you pretty. That was something to brag about. 

“Look who’s talking,” you murmur.

He really was the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. You stuttered all throughout the dinner date you two were just at. Initially you thought it was because of nerves. But as the date continued, you realized it was because Dick was just so damn pretty. Piercing blue eyes that never strayed far from your face had you stumbling and fumbling over your words. To a third party viewer, it might’ve sounded like you were a toddler stuck in the body of an adult. 

After he paid the bill, which you insisted on paying for, or at least paying for your portion of the meal, but he refused because he’s the embodiment of chivalry, you thought that would be the last you’d see of him. You thought he’d find you too jittery and weird for his liking. But to your utter shock and delight, he offered his arm to you and asked if he could just take a walk with you around the block to extend your date.

It was freezing outside, but walking so close next to him made your insides melt. As the two of you leisurely stroll away from the restaurant, with no destination in mind, the conversation flowed easily. Something about him by your side rather than in front of you made you less nervous, so it was easier to speak. You tell him about how you want to pick up a new hobby. You mention your coworker that got on your nerves earlier that week. You even tell him your favorite weird food combination that you eat when there’s no one around to judge you.

He talks about his early days with his father, Bruce Wayne, and how growing up as the billionaire’s adopted son was no walk in the park. He talks about Alfred, his pseudo-grandfather, with so much pride and joy. He tells you his favorite colors are blue and black, and that he finds himself wearing those colors quite often.

“And then my buddy Wally says to me-,”

He’s in the middle of his story when he abruptly stops. Neon lights flash in his face and he slowly breaks out into a smirk. You remain confused until you turn your head and glance at what you’re in front of. 

He slithers his arm out of your grip and then reaches to grab your hand. “C’mon, let’s go inside!”

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the neon lights around you. Different colors of light flash all around you. Pinging sounds from the plethora of arcade games create a symphony of chaos. People hurriedly rush from one machine to another, trying to get to a game before others do. Laughter and chatter fill the air, alongside the clanking of coins. In your distracted haze, Dick retrieves a bucket full of coins for you two to indulge in from the arcade employee.

“You should’ve let me pay for that. You already paid for dinner,” you pout.

He’s facing you now, unlike when you two were walking side by side. You suddenly get the jitters, like you did when you were at dinner with him. You can still see the blue in his eyes, despite the lighting that tried its best to hide it. 

He comes dangerously close to you, almost toe-to-toe. Your head screams at you to look down or up or to the side, just anywhere else except his pretty face. He grabs the small of your back to bring you even closer and bring his mouth to your ear.

“Lemme take care of you.”

His breath on your ear makes you tingle, and you instinctively contract all the muscles in your body to control your reaction. The hand he has on your back slowly makes its way back to your hand and he pulls you closer to the rows of machines. 

You both silently stare at the machines in contemplation. There are so many choices to make, the both of you can’t decide on where to start.

You quickly glance at his face and notice his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration. He’s so freaking cute!

You take a deep breath in to psyche yourself up. He has taken the lead all night. It’s time you show just how interested you are in him, too. This time, you lead the way for him. While holding onto his hand, you shimmy your way past hordes of people until you reach your destination.

You let go of him to take off your gloves and reach into the bucket of coins. You deposit the allotted coins into the machine and the game comes to life. 

He places the bucket of coins on the ground. “Not tryna brag, but I’m a pretty good dancer. You might be in over your head.”

“We’ll see about that, pretty boy,” you bite back.

Three songs later and you conclude that the both of you suck at dancing. Neither of you score very high in the dancing game, but you do come out victorious, scoring higher than him in two out of the three games.

He raises his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. You win!” He’s breathless as he says it. 

You giggle as you turn your head to examine the other machines in your line of sight. You suddenly gasp at the claw machine filled with Justice League superheroes as stuffed plushie dolls. 

You run over to claim the machine with Dick hot on your trail. Your nose touches the machine’s plexiglass as you look over the dolls within it. Superman, Batman, Green Arrow, Wonder Woman, Hawkwoman, and so many more. 

“Which one do ya want?” Dick slides coins into the machine, readying himself to retrieve whatever plushie doll you desire. 

You think for a moment, seriously looking over the options. “Batman,” you confidently reply.

Dick nods his head and begins to move the claw. He has his eyes set on the Batman doll that is conveniently located right at the top of the pile. 

“Batman, eh,” he begins covertly. “Is he your favorite of the Bats or…” He trails off as he concentrates his efforts on placing the claw directly above the doll.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought about it.” You look off into the distance as you formulate an answer. Meanwhile, Dick makes a few minor adjustments to ensure that the claw will capture the Batman doll as he waits for your answer. He finally is satisfied with his efforts and presses the button that will drop the claw down on the doll. 

“Red Robin seems pretty cool,” you innocuously answer just as Dick releases the button. You could’ve sworn that Dick’s eye twitches and the vein on the side of his neck bulges. You think it’s because he’s so concentrated on winning this plushie doll for you, but Dick knows it’s due to a twinge of jealously. He’ll never admit what you said to anyone, especially not to Tim. It’s prime bullying material for his friends and family.

The two of you watch in silence as the claw hooks onto the Batman doll, carries it over to the side, and drops it down the hatch. You squeal and jump up and down in delight as Dick reaches into the machine to retrieve the doll. He hands you the doll and you grab it.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!” In your excitement, you lean over and peck Dick right on the lips as a show of appreciation. 

You have no idea where you got the confidence to do that. You don’t even realize what you did until you notice Dick sport the goofiest grin on his face. 

You fiercely begin to blush again, for what seems like the millionth time that night. You hope you didn’t just ruin the experience for him. Your anxiety is squashed though as soon as Dick leans in close again. He again grabs the small of your back with just a tad bit more strength this time around. His other hand cups your chin. You both inch your lips towards one another. You lean in a little. Then he does. Then you do. And then he does. Until finally, your lips embrace one another.

The kiss is gentle. Sweet. Loving. One arm holds the Batman doll, and the other grabs the front of his jacket to pull him in closer. He chuckles into your lips as you do. There’s so much going on around, but it’s almost as if you two were the only ones in that arcade. All that you could sense was him. 

To your chagrin, you end up breaking the kiss. You had to come up for breath eventually. You can feel your lips plump up due to the extra blood flow. Despite the kiss being broken, the two of you remain close to each other. Your bodies melded into one.

His sparkling blue eyes bore into yours. This time, you don’t feel nervous. You belong in this moment. You belong in this moment with him. This feels right. 

You stare right back at him and innocently ask, “So, who’s your favorite Bat?”

His eyes crinkle as he smiles. There’s mischief behind his eyes. Perhaps you’ll indulge in that on another date. 

“Baby, have you heard of Nightwing?”

#dc comics #dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson imagine #nightwing x y/n #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x female!reader #nightwing x fem!reader #dick Grayson x fem!reader

[celsfandomrave]

Ted Lasso Costume Deep Dive

I asked if anyone would be interested if I did a deep dive analysis into the Costume Design of Ted Lasso and people seemed to be very interested!

I work as what is called a Stitcher for opera and theatrical costumes which means I am one of the people who sews the costumes you see people wearing on stage. I am not a costume designer and I have never worked in TV. That said, many of the people I work with have worked in TV and I work with costume designers everyday, so I like to think I have a relatively realistic idea of what choices are intentional and what are not. This is my costume design degree put to use.

Part 1: Ted Lasso

Ted has simultaneously the most and least interesting costume design in the show so let’s talk about it and why I am freaking out about Ted’s orange shirt in Sunflowers.

With only very few exceptions here is a list of colors Ted wears:

White

Beige

Grey

Blue (Navy, Light Medium)

IF Ted wears a suit if will be black with a white shirt and a red tie for special occassions or a black tie for funerals

IF Ted is seen in his sleepwear it will be a pair of grey joggers with either a blue shirt, a black “Joe Arthur” T-shirt, or a Kansas City T-Shirt

IF Ted is seen at training or around the club just before or after he will be wearing some combination of (depending on weather):

White or grey polo shirt

Navy Blue Richmond Track Pants

Nav Blue Richmond Track Jacket

Orange Tinted Aviators

White Richmond Visor

On very rare occassions Ted will wear a RED POLO SHIRT. This is outside of Ted’s normal uniform.

The first time we see this shirt in Season 1 Episode 6, Ted is taking off his wedding ring. This immediately establishes that red polo means something is off in Ted’s world, even if it’s something minor. He might wear this shirt more than we actually see in the show but I would think of this as the shirt he wears if he hasn’t had time to do laundry.

This rule continues

Season 2 Episode 2

Ted is dealing with the fact that Dr. Feldstone is staying and the dinamics at the club are changing.

Season 2 Episode 3

Worn as Led Tasso. As though I needed  help proving this meant something was off.

Season 2 Episode 6

When he wears the shirt early in the episode it seems like there is very little going on with him, everything is fine. So why do we get red shirt Ted? and then he gets a panic attack in the middle of a game. That red shirt was the only indication that something was wrong.

Season 3 Episode 5

The Team are in a losing streak following the game with West Ham. He is also wearing it when he finds out about the bullying situation with Henry.

Other exceptions to the rule that I’m not reading too much into, due to them not being quite as noticeable:

Season 2 Episode 5

Ted wears this brownish yellow sweatshirt under his Navy Richmond jacket. I will let this slide because it is mostly covered by the jacket and it is very cold and snowy during this episode.

Season 3 Episode 1

Ted wears a green sweater dropping off his son at the airport. The green doesn’t stand out as much as the red or orange shirt do. I do think this is sort of an indication that we are getting a Ted in season 3 who branches out a little bit more.

Season 3 Episode 3

Ted wears a maroon sweater with a pocket to Sam’s restaurant. Notably, we have seen this sweater in Navy previously. Ted is branching out in colors but only when it is a style he knows he likes. This is also the same style as the orange shirt.

And now SEASON 3 EPISODE 6 he shows up in ORANGE out of nowhere.

and hopefully you understand why I am freaking out enough to do a breakdown of the whole show.

A few things I’d like to note.

The fact that Ted has a reasonably constrained wardrobe doesn’t really surprise me. The way these sorts of shows tend to work is that they will shop for a character’s closet. Even Keeley repeats, if not whole outfits, pieces of them at times. Ted is not the most fashion forward guy, it makes sense that he has a relatively short number of outfits. That said, Coach beard has much more variated style than Ted.

In the episode, what does the Orange shirt tie Ted to?

To me, the most obvious answer to this is actually Colin. Yes, you could argue that he is being tied to to Sunflower painting, maybe to the tea, maybe to the warm colors or the houseboat but if you are going to argue any of those, Colin is being tied to the same thing. I could definitely see both Ted and Colin being tied to the sunflowers. We are definitely meant to compare Ted to Van Gogh in the museum seen. Both are Inspiring creative people who are trying to get past their “inner demons”. Perhaps we are supposed to see that Colin is also one of these people or perhaps it is meant to connect Ted’s journey with Colin’s sexuality storyline. I genuinely don’t know the answer, but Ted’s costume tells me that something is going on.

Stay tuned for future parts where I will reveal which 2 characters are wearing the same distinctive T-shirt and have a similar freak out about Rebecca breaking all of her clothing rules.

Part 2

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso costumes #ted lasso costume design #ted lasso meta #tedependent

[msfcatlover]

Shadow Damian (Reverse Robins)

Shadow starts with Damian, and I am drawing huge inspiration from his Infinite Frontier design. In particular, this absolutely gorgeous rendition by DuhDude.

(I fucking love this look)

I'm also taking inspiration from @adoptedbybruciewayne's design, which just so happens to have a very similar silhouette.

As I've said before, I'm aiming for "sleek while still somewhat disguising his body outline." The goal is to make him a harder target to pin down.

Black tunic-vest, the part below the (utility) belt shaped mostly like the green design. Keep the puffy sleeves, though they're now also black & ever so slightly translucent; the under-suit is actually very dark grey, so you still can't really see his arms, it just does weird things to the shadows.

The hood is NOT part of the tunic, it's a separate cowl like this (sized similarly to the green design), held on by a single snap so that it never chokes him or holds him back if it gets grabbed.

No bandages, but the bottom half of his forearm does have a metal cuff for protection. Black gloves under dark red fingerless gloves, and the cuffs are the same red.

There is actually a single red stripe running down each arm like a ribbon between the cuffs/gloves & his shoulders, but I feel like if anyone drew it, those would be the first detail to go. In any case, those ribbon-lines sorta pour below the curve of his collarbones to merge into a red bat in front of a gold circle. (Referencing this chart, it's probably a combination of the "Batman: Dead End" & "Batman Beyond" designs.)

(Quickly thrown together in GIMP, though the colors seem to have gotten messed up... it should be redder.)

No domino; he wears a black half-mask/mouth-guard on the lower half of his face (kinda like the "muzzle" mask Jason's been wearing in recent years), and paints the remaining visible skin with grease paint to disguise his features (think Battinson, but it's the entire upper half of his face.)

The effect being Damian's mouth, jaw & nose covered, his face cast in shadow, his skin painted black, so there's no discernible features... just these two piercing green eyes staring at you from under the hood.

The pants are well-padded (same dark grey as the undersuit), and he has extra armor on his thighs, though a lot more in-line with modern sensibilities.

(This, but black.)

I also love Damian's knee-high lace-up boots, especially how they're drawn in "Son of Batman" where they are all the way to the knee, with a very de-emphasized kneepad. Practical? Probably not, but I don't really like how the protective cap they usually put over his knees change the shape of the boots. So he gets those, but black instead of green.

(It is weirdly hard to grab a good reference image for these; they never look as good on the covers, for some reason.)

So that's my... excruciatingly detailed explanation of Damian's Shadow costume. Look forward to future breakdowns of Damian's Nightwing costume, how future Shadows evolved the look, and basically every other costume in the family.

#reverse!robins #reverse robins #reverse robins au #reverse order robins #reverse order batkids #reverse batkids #reverse batfam #reverse batfamily #damian wayne #damian al ghul #batfam #bat fam #batfamily #bat family #batkids #bat kids #batsiblings #bat siblings #shadow damian #shadow damian wayne #shadow!damian #shadow!damian wayne #mine

[respectthepetty]

Colors in Twins

I'm still not sure if there are color-coded boys in love happening in Twins, but . . .

I find it funny that First is #2 instead of being #1.

And it's all because First's dad favored Zee when they were kids over his own biological son.

As a child, First is seen in yellow and this blue-green.

And when we first see Zee and Sprite as kids, Zee is blue and Sprite is yellow and blue.

But something happened to all of them as kids. They changed colors. Zee, without Sprite became angrier and red.

First lost the attention of his Blue Boy father.

Like, that dad only wears blue.

So First turned completely yellow and cautious since he felt betrayed.

Even though Sprite tried to fill his Blue Boy brother's shoes clothes when they were separated,

He seems to have maintained both his colors because even when he wears blue, he has the yellow bag.

And this is where my color theory gets wild.

We have Zee (red), Sprite (mainly blue), and First (yellow) with Sprite trying to repair the rocky relationship between Zee and First.

The love story is between First

And Sprite.

Both boys, when they were young, were blue and yellow, then life slapped them (@sparklyeyedhimbo saw the lights too, so I'm not delulu).

But Sprite still holds onto the yellow through his bag, and First still holds onto the blue through his bag (their baggage, get it? hehe).

So are the colors trying to tell us that these two were destined? They were both the same colors when they were young. They adopted a primary color because of unhappy circumstance but they still carry around a part of the other color. Now they will play together on a team that combines their colors.

And could the show also be saying Zee needs to come back to his blueness?

First's dad is blue, and Zee was forced to fulfill his mother dream. He couldn't be blue anymore. But he seems to like Salmon, who might be a Green Gal, but always carries around a little bit of yellow, just like his twin. Her clipboard is also yellow.

And could that be the reason Zee hated First? He didn't want to replace his yellow/blue brother with a yellow/blue friend?

Yet still thinks about his brother on occasion?

Or is Zee going to remain red and a hindrance?

I have no idea, but every week, I'm more excited to find out!

#twins the series #color coded boys in love #the colors mean things #so does it mean this is about fate? #does it mean Zee had his reasons for being being distant? #WHAT DO THEY MEAN?!

[twopoppies]

my little bing card for tomorrow's answers:

- the best new year of my life with my son

- Happy birthday to my son who is getting bigger, I LOVE YOU LITTLE LAD

- people talk and say shit but they really don't know anything

- What a horrible combination blue and green makes, I would never wear the colors together

- I'm already bored of singing 7, I haven't listened to it in years, the first verse is shit

- I don't know how they leaked all along but it seems like shit to me, for some reason it's not on my album, it's horrible and I don't like it, it doesn't mean anything

💀💀💀

[bowtiepastabitch]

Let's Talk Costuming: Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!

Welcome, my friends, to the Renaissance, or to be more specific in geography and time, the Elizabethan period! Shakespeare! Protestantism! Great fun! For context, this scene likely takes place sometime around 1599-1601, towards the end of Queen Elizabeth's reign.

What I find most interesting about clothing of this period (aside from how silly looking some of it is) is that this is the era of ~*sumptuary laws*~ so every piece of clothing you see tells you a story about the person wearing it! Of course, I can't imagine Crowley or Aziraphale are all that concerned with being mistaken for a duke or somesuch, but it's fun to image what an onlooker may have thought of them.

Note: The focus of this analysis will be on Aziraphale's costume and on Elizabethan sumptuary laws. Crowley is up next, and his costume analysis will focus more on composition.

[text of a Royal Proclamation dated 15 June 1574, British Library]

Sumptuary laws have been around for a while, and they served a dual purpose during the Elizabethan period. First and foremost, they set to reinforce class boundaries by forbidding one to dress above ones station, but they also sought to reduce foreign imports of excess frippery that drained English pocketbooks. The proclamation even warns that young men of the realm, having spent their fortunes on fine clothing, will turn to lives of crime to satisfy their appetites.

These laws regulated all kinds of things: the textiles one could wear, in what colors, how much a guy could pad his calves out for ultimate sex appeal, really anything you can think of. That's not a joke, in fact a man in 1565 was detained for wearing "a very monsterous and outraygous greate payre of hose," which likely refers to a 1562 regulation on hose, ruffs, and swords. Hose could not be "containing in the netherstocks and upperstocks more than one yard and a half, or above one yard and three-quarters at the most, of the broadest kersey, or with any other stuff beyond that proportion," nor could they be lined excessively or constructed with too much fabric.

This same law regulated ruffs, like the ones we see at Aziraphale's neck and sleeve cuffs, to only a single width of ruffle, which dear Azi is following:

Where he might find himself in a spot of trouble, though, would be in the colors he's wearing. The color combination is rather divine on him, but the use of gold embroidery on clothing is forbidden unless one ranks as a Viscount or above. Now, could it be argued that Aziraphale, as an angel and a principality, has a privileged rank of his own? Yes, it could, but that takes some of the fun out of this.

His doublet (cute little jacket) appears to be a silk damask dyed in a lighter shade of blue, so likely woad. He would be safe in all these regards. Were the blue indigo, he could get in trouble for that, however, as that rich shade of blue was reserved for the upper echelons of the gentry as well.

Swords notwithstanding, the cut of Aziraphale's garments is reminiscent of several of the gentlemen in the foreground here:

[Royal procession of Queen Elizabeth. Printed by and for J. Nichols and Son, London, 1823. Folger Shakespeare Library]

As usual, we see Aziraphale in a tasteful iteration of the era's clothing that incorporates his character's color scheme. The incredibly dramatic silhouettes of the era definitely leave their mark, but he ends up looking rather refined rather than ridiculous.

[The Tailor, Giovanni Battista Moroni, 1565-1570]

This portrait gives a great view of these outrageous pants up close, as well as a jacket very similar in design to the one Aziraphale wears in this scene. The primary difference between the two is that the tailor is dressed appropriately for a craftsman, plain colors and not much extraneous ornamentation. Against this, Aziraphale certainly stands out, with his fancy trims and such, and would thus necessarily be identified as a member of the gentry by anyone in his vicinity.

This is important, because his positionality in this world is very clear. As in many of our historical moments, Aziraphale's wish to blend in only extends to a certain degree. He complies with the style of the era, and I suspect even enjoys his little games of dress-up, but as time goes on he creates more distance between himself and the garb of the peasantry. In some of the biblical era flashbacks, he's dressed rather plainly, but in later periods we seem him as a knight, a rather foppish Victorian gentleman, and finally in his well loved 20th century gentleman outfit that he keeps well past the point of anachronism.

He leans into these little luxurious identities in part because he is an angel, yes, but he is also slowly falling in love with all the beautiful little things that humanity has to offer. And what does the renaissance give him? Great works of theatre, luxurious gold embroidered silk jackets, and slutty little pumpkin shorts.

He's adorable, you have to admit. My sources, for your further reading pleasure or to prove I did my research:

-https://blogs.loc.gov/law/2014/02/sumptuary-laws/

-https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/proclamation-against-excess-of-apparel-by-queen-elizabeth-i#:~:text=During%20the%20reign%20of%20Queen,on%20luxuries%20such%20as%20clothing.

-https://www.folger.edu/blogs/shakespeare-and-beyond/sumptuary-laws-rules-dressing-shakespeare-england/

Ta ta, have a wonderful day, and I hope you enjoyed our little history lesson.

#good omens analysis #costume design #history #clothing history #good omens #good omens costumes #historical clothing #aziraphale #aziraphale good omens #michael sheen #neil gaiman #I spent eight hours in the library today writing a paper why did I come home and spend another two hours researching this

[henrioo]

°•*⁀➷ LITTLE HANDS: EUSTASS KID

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Being a parent is a scary adventure for you and Kid, your partner has a lot of insecurities and fear, when he's about to freak out, the slightest sign can reassure him that fighting for his family is enough to convince him not to give up."

꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : MALE READER, TRANSMASC READER, TRANS MALE READER, FTM, PREGNANT MAN, MENTION OF BIOLOGICALLY PREGNANT MEN,calling Kid your husband, you can decide if you are really married or just a nickname, first-time parents, insecurities and fears about being a father, Kid being insecure about himself and his ability to be a father, Considerably calm reader, Kid pirates being the best uncles and aunts to spoil your child

꒰ WC ꒱ : 753

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : Yes, again babies, I really was in baby fever and I still have some good baby stories, I can't help it. This is part of the collection for cannonically trans readers, but in the future most of the fics will not have this specified because sometimes it triggers me to write about some trans issues. I hope you like it and I still have lots of stories to share!

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

You were in the huge armchair that made your whole body sink into the softness and comfort of the snuggle, honestly everything you needed after hours without sleep with the arrival of your newborn. You sighed, opening your eyes and looking for Kid. He had been in the same place for the last few minutes and you laughed softly before getting up and walking over to your huge husband.

He stood in front of the crib that he had built himself, it was made of beautiful, dark wood and was rocking gently, rocking his little baby into a deep sleep. The little boy had his skin color but Kid's wild red hair… Although he didn't really have much hair yet. He was wearing a beautiful, extremely soft and probably very expensive outfit that the crew had given you two, in fact they had given you so many clothes that the baby must have had more clothes than you and Eustass combined.

The baby's face was peaceful and he sucked his pacifier while sleeping like a starfish. After two days in a row crying without calming down in any situation he was now so peaceful that you had become paranoid that he was sick or dying. Luckily, the ship's doctor came to assure you every two hours that your son was healthy and was just resting and regaining his strength, soon he would start crying and screaming again and the whole process would repeat itself again.

You hugged Kid's waist and turned to face the sleeping little creature. Kid didn't have any expression on his face, but you knew him too well to be able to read even the smallest signs. You had seen his emotions changing in the last few days, fear, joy, love, insecurity, he had been on a roller coaster and now it seemed like the ride was over and he didn't know which of those feelings he wanted to keep.

“If you stare at him that much he’ll wake up…” You teased him, hugging his waist tighter.

“I can’t help it” he said in a low whisper, still staring at his son, your son.

You understood his fears, the fear of having a child on a pirate ship, the fear of his first child... But you knew that Kid's main fear was himself. You knew his past, you knew he had to become a monster in order to protect everyone he loved, but he would never want his own son to see him as a monster. What if his own son feared him? Hated him? He never had a father, how could he be one?

“Don’t overthink it, it’ll melt what’s left of your little brain” you mumbled and rubbed your face against their back and in return he pinched your waist, making you jump and laugh.

“How do we make something perfect?” He sighed as he watched his son with love and tenderness.

“I don’t know, but I don’t regret it” you stated calmly “What’s wrong Kid?” You tried somehow to get your husband to let you in and you could help him.

“I… I don't know… I'm afraid of doing something wrong to him… Failing with him” he sighed.

You smiled and released him, staying next to him and then gently took his hand and led him to your sleeping baby, using his finger — which was much bigger than yours — and made him caress the baby on the cheek gently, just letting go. when he started doing it on his own.

“You won't fail... And if you fail, I know you'll realize it and do your best, that's what matters, you try and have good intentions about it” you smiled at him, trying to calm him down.

“I…” Before Kid could disagree with you again your baby rolled over, waking up for a brief moment, when he saw that it was only his parents who were watching and petting him, he cooed and grabbed his redheaded father's finger with his small hand, then turned over to go back to sleep. “Their hands… They’re so tiny… Little hands…” You smiled, knowing that that was enough to calm all his insecurities while ensuring that being a father would be the best adventure he could have. And you both knew very well that even if you weren't experienced parents, with risky lives and insecurities, you would do your best for that new being so that he would have the best life and the best parents... That would be enough for now.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

#one piece x masc reader #one piece x male reader #one piece x transmasc reader #one piece x trans male reader #one piece x trans reader #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #one piece imagine #onepiece #anime imagines #anime and manga #imagines #x reader #x male reader #x masc reader #x transmasc reader #x trans male reader #ftm reader

[danothan]

started reading robin 2021 and i wanted to take the time to appreciate two of the most beautiful spreads in issue #1. they captivated me with how gorgeous and momentous they felt, which must have been the point bc i ended up staring at them sm that the symbolism finally kicked in

SPREAD 1:

1) LOVE the red and green at play, it’s such a difficult color scheme to get right lest you end up making the whole piece feel like a christmas card, but gleb melnikov pulled it off. the environment is rich and elegant and well-contrasted; it rly brings out damian’s classic red/green robin combo, even tho he’s not actually wearing his robin suit here. the green of his clothing highlights the green of talia’s, as well as the assassin’s tattoos, and, when combined with the cool-toned background, makes the red just pop out at you. pretty palette aside, it’s a very calculated choice in colors.

2) speaking of red, melnikov rly wanted you to notice the blood in these two pages. from the emphasis of the words DEMON BLOOD to the reflection of damian in the blood puddle, it only draws attention to the fact that his blade is perfectly clean of it in the second panel. one can only assume that talia killed that guy so hard that damian’s sword was caught in the collateral (damn talia !). it frames damian as the one to land the killing blow, as though his doubts/restraint with killing mean nothing because he still has the blood on his hands, blood passed down from talia. that doesn’t necessarily make it true ofc, but it does give us a reflection of his mindset with the blood acting as a literal mirror.

now before we delve into the second spread, lemme preface this with some context: many characters will refer to damian as an actual bird (“what better way to take out a robin than with a hawke,” “i’ve fought little birds like you before,” etc.) which speaks to his reputation, but i think it’s most notable when coming from talia:

at first, it’s used condescendingly, as it usually is from most ppl, and she speaks in a possessive tone when she talks abt returning him to the nest. she even tells him that if he IS to be taken under her wing, she would not treat him as her son but as a weapon. however, we know that this contradicts her intentions as she later uses the same “baby bird” petname as a term of endearment, even to calling him her son—notably when he is out of earshot.

you get the sense that they have this unspoken code of conduct around each other—family dynamics tend to be rigid in that way—but there’s also this feeling of regret as well as unfamiliarity navigating it coming from talia. i mean, she said it herself: damian was just a baby bird. he flew out of the nest too early.*

*see read more

so why does she taunt him for running back to his mother? why is she pushing him away? and why does she monologue for so long that she lets her guard down and closes her eyes long enough for him to disappear…?

SPREAD 2:

BECAUSE DAMIAN IS JUMPING OUT OF THE HELICOPTER!!! BECAUSE TALIA IS PUSHING HIM OUT OF THE NEST !!!!

talia doubled down on her militaristic plans as an opening for damian to leave. with that sense of regret mentioned earlier, talia knows she raised damian under harsh conditions, but she doesn’t know to raise him differently either, so she urges him to find his own path. presenting “the way of the demon or the way of the bat” as the only 2 options to her already rebellious son was guaranteed sabotage. she pushed him too early when he was younger, but she knows that her baby bird is ready to fly now :”)

bonus: what a classic jason todd move to wear a mask underneath your mask btw. guess it just runs in the family! (but on a deeper, unironic level, damian switches out both his robin and his demon suit into this new one. this obviously symbolizes his forging a new path, but also reveals his intent/doubts abt the whole confrontation. a mask underneath his mask? he was never truly looking to rejoin the league. after running away from bruce, he runs to talia to test the waters and see if he would do better there. and when it ends in the same shadowing of an ambitious parent, he ditches the whole thing. the fact that he had a back-up plan meant that his heart wasn’t in it, just as talia’s heart wasn’t in keeping him caged. a confirmation bias given permission by a mother’s facade. god, the al ghul mindgames are truly smth to behold)

*so much can be said abt how talia’s approach to parenting parallels and contrasts bruce’s. they both have the same good intentions for their son, and they both realize that he’s too young to face what he had and what he’s abt to. but talia wants to start the healing process of her control in his upbringing, and bruce wants to prevent damian from having to face it alone knowing firsthand what suffering he “endured to become batman.” one is letting go, the other is desperate to bring him back.

it’s such a fascinating look into the push and pull of their fatal flaws and mistakes as parents, as well as making them feel human and reasonable within the limits of all they know and are capable of. OF COURSE they’re overcompensating for their regrets, that’s just so… them!

and the fact that you can see both parents’ traits and influence in damian as he searches for his own identity just makes the whole family feel well-rounded. robin 2021 is so good you guys, it’s too fucking good

#damian wayne #damian al ghul #talia al ghul #bruce wayne #batman #dc #robin #robin 2021 #panels #meta #danbles #long post #alt text #described #no spoilers please i only just finished issue 2 🫶 #god i can’t wait to get to talia and damian’s reunion that shit looked tense

[the-broken-truth]

Anime Accident - [Part 1]

Wenclair - Yokovina - Weems Is Still Alive - After The Crackstone Accident - I am an Anime Nerd (Don't Judge Me)

[Wednesday is walking into the Quad in search of her Alpha Werewolf when she happens to see Enid and Yoko standing side by side in front of Divina, who is stilling on the edge of the fountain.]

Wednesday (Walks over to Divina and looks at Enid & Yoko, before looking at Divina): Why do those two have those stupid grins on their faces?

Divina (Holds up a Dragonball Z Manga Book): Xavier found some Manga in the library and gave one to Enid; she found out about the Fusion Dance and wants to do it with Yoko.

Wednesday (Raises an eyebrow): What the hell is the 'Fusion Dance'?

Divina (Opens the book and points to a certain page): See those two characters? They are Son Goku and Prince Vegeta. They do this strange dance and combine into a new being by the name of 'Gogeta'. Enid and Yoko wanna see if they would fuse if they did the dance.

Wednesday (Looks at Enid): Cara Mia, that's not gonna work.

Enid: Come on, Wends! Even if it doesn't work, it could be fun!

Wednesday (Exhales): Very well. Show me this 'Fusion Dance'.

[Yoko and Enid smirk at each other before getting into the First Stance.]

Yoko & Enid: FU-

[Moves closer into the second stance.]

Yoko & Enid: -SION!

[Yoko & Enid reach toward each other and connect the tips of their index fingers together in the final stance.]

Yoko & Enid: HA!

[Wednesday opens her mouth when Yoko and Enid start glowing like the stars close up.]

Wednesday (Covering her eyes): What trickery is this?!

Divina (Covering her eyes): I have no idea!!

[When the light fades, Wednesday and Divina remove their hands from their eyes and look shocked at the figure before them: She is tall with Enid's skin color, long blonde hair with black highlights and tips, Yoko's glasses cover her eyes and she's wearing a Nevermore Uniform with pants instead of a skirt.]

??? (Voice the perfect blind of Enid's & Yoko's): Whoa... What? We fused?! We actually fused! (Fist pounding) It worked! We're a Fusion!

Wednesday:...

Divina:...

Wednesday & Divina: WHAT THE ACTUALLY HELL?!

#wenclair #yokovina #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #yoko tanaka #divina

[tgmsunmontue]

It's all academic darlin' PART 2/10

12k+ Hangster AU. Updating 2-3 parts per week and will be finished by 31st January 2024. (Each part is ~1500 words).

Bradley is a professor but living his best life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick sort-of tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again. Touch of epistolary and sprinkling of one-sided unknown/mistaken-identity.

(Note for later parts/chapters - Ice uses sign to communicate at home, I’m typing it like sign is English despite the fact that I know it isn’t (while NZSL is my third language, I have no working knowledge on the grammar useage in ASL).)

PART TWO

                The next morning he wakes up slowly. There’s music again, although quieter, and he can smell coffee. He’d gone to bed early last night, using the excuse of the long drive, because saying he was developing a pressing headache wasn’t something he wanted to mention. He showers and inspects his bruises in the mirror, presses gently on the cuts where the stitches were removed only two days ago. Nothing feels inflamed or more tender than what should be expected.

                He grabs a black Henley from his bag and pulls it on, only feeling very mild discomfit as he moves now. It’s looser and darker colored than what he usually wears, however his usual form fitting things were dragging across the stitches, catching on them. So, he’d succumbed to Phoenix buying him some shirts that didn’t show blood every time he reached too far when playing pool or rubbed his stitches. Not that it’s a problem now that they’re gone, but the shirt reminds him that someone cared enough to help him feel comfortable. Walking toward the kitchen he finds Bradley standing at the stove, poking at the contents of a pan. Whatever it is smells good, and he hopes that there’s the intent to share.

                “Mornin’,” he greets, his voice sounding rough.

                “Hey, morning. Help yourself to coffee, or there’s tea and stuff. I’ve made some breakfast. Sorry it’s a bit, uh, mixed. I’m just trying to get through the perishables so no one has to deal with the repercussions next time we visit.”

                Jake has a closer look at the pan and sees fried potatoes with some ham and egg thrown in along with some spinach and tomatoes, small sprinkling of cheese and it smells a perfect combination of crispy-salt-fat and his mouth is watering.

                “Smells good. Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

                “Seriously man, you turning up means I won’t have to gorge myself too much today to get through everything. I don’t want to have to come back to this place and find liquified vegetables in the fridge.”

                “Learnt that lesson the hard way huh?”

                “Unfortunately,” Bradley laughs and shakes his head ruefully.

                Jake takes a breath, a shaky smile making its way onto his face in response to the wide smile and crinkling eyes. Bradley smiles so easily, like it’s natural to just be smiley and friendly and simply… good natured. Jake would bet money he doesn’t get called an asshole on the regular. Unlike him. Considering he’s Mav’s son though he might just be hiding his more asshole-ish tendencies much like Jake is ensuring he doesn’t stray from the societal norms of being the most polite and accommodating of guests.

                Bradley is making him think though, maybe finding someone who is more mild mannered and edges on too polite would balance him out. It’s not what Jake usually finds attractive, but with the year at work he’s had maybe quiet, safe, and friendly… could make a nice change. Not that he’s in a hurry for any type of relationship, but he might table it for consideration for the future, because maybe coming back to the same place, the same person, has started to have some… appeal.

                “Did you sleep okay?”

                “Yeah, better than I expected,” Jake replies, and he’s assuming the combination of drive and headache had made his brain unable to formulate its semi-regular nightmare fodder. That’s what disrupts his sleep these days, not the location.

                “That’s good. Here,” Bradley says, passing him a plate piled high with food and moving towards the dining table with his own. “You won’t get this again sorry. I’m leaving early tomorrow, so I’ll probably be gone before you get up.”

                “It’s fine. I lived plenty long enough looking after myself, I’m sure I’ll survive a couple of weeks on my own here. I didn’t expect any cooked meals when I decided to come stay. Are you driving back?”

                “No. Well, partly I guess. I’ve got a plane at Fallon, so I’ll drive there and then fly back to San Diego. Perk of the job,” Bradley says, and he grins. Jake assumes it’s a reference to Mav’s connections, that he can store a plane at Fallon and use the runway and airspace for personal use. That’s one hell of a perk. The food tastes as good as it smells and Jake lets himself savor it, enjoys the novelty of food being cooked for him.

                “Actually, I have a favor to ask. Nothing major, just… can I use you phone later? I need to make a couple of calls. First one needs to be to Mav.”

                Jake agrees easily, it’s no issue for him. They do the washing up and Bradley continues to sing along to the music playing from a portable speaker. The man doesn’t seem to care that Jake is virtually a stranger, no embarrassment at all as he belts out the words to the song being played and tries to encourage Jake to sing along as well. Jake guesses he’s someone who is truly confident, which with a new Hawaiian shirt today, easy smile, clearly happy with whatever lot he has in his life… well, Jake guesses Bradley probably is.

                He’d probably be just as happy right now with or without Jake there, singing along to himself. He clearly doesn’t feel like he needs to impress Jake, and for once Jake feels a little unsettled. Unsure about how he should act with no crowd to play up his own abilities, someone he doesn’t need to harmlessly flirt with, it leaves him without a guide book of basic social interaction and he feels unmoored. He excuses himself to go and grab his phone from his room and thumbs through to Mav’s contact and puts the call through.

                “Hello. Pete Mitchell.”

                “Hey Mav, It’s Hangman.”

                “Hangman. Good to hear from you. Did you find the place alright?”

                “Yeah. Although Bradley wasn’t expecting me. He wants to talk to you actually.”

                “He wasn’t expecting you and he can’t call me himself,” Mav says flatly. “Let me guess. He lost another phone.”

Jake barks out a laugh, because hearing Mav’s disappointed tone and not have it aimed in any way toward him makes him feel like he’s in on a private joke. And maybe he can go with a teasing thing rather than a flirting thing if this is a thing. He walks back to find Bradley lounging on the sofa, looking at something on a tablet.

                “Yeah, fell in the lake,” Jake provides and Bradley’s eyes shoot up to meet his, narrowing as he realizes that he must already be talking to Mav.

                “Jesus. That kid. I swear he goes through a phone a year. Falling in the lake is probably one of the least exciting ways it’s happened. There’s been the top of a car, wing of a plane, compressor which was a stupid prank when he was an undergraduate… Can you put him on?”

                “Yeah, of course.”

                “Hi Dad…”

                Jake moves out onto the porch, trying to be polite and give Bradley some privacy, but the other man just follows, clearly not seeming to want or need privacy as he listens to his father talking. “Yeah, I know.” “Yes. Another one.” “Please stop keeping count.” “I’m good. How’s everyone at home?” “Okay. I’m glad to hear that. Tell him I fixed the smoker.” “Yeah.” “Ugh, I know.” “You’d think so wouldn’t you?” “What? Uh, good I guess?” “Got a whole bunch of stuff done.” “Yes Mav, all the important shit.” “Jesus Mav, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, you can grill me then.” “Well, it’s not like my fridge is going to be overflowing with food, I thought the least you could do was feed me dinner.” “I knew you’d want to see me…”

                Jake listens to the one-sided conversation, can almost imagine Mav’s side. Not that he knows who else Mav might have at home, but the easy laughter and conversation makes part of him ache for what he doesn’t have with his own father. It’s a small passing ache now; he’d like to think he’s managed to work through the worst of it and accepted that the rest is something he can’t change; more importantly accepted it isn’t his responsibility to change. He listens again and the conversation has shifted to confirming times at the airstrip for take-off and he briefly wonders where the plane is stored in San Diego, because from the sounds of it Mav is picking Bradley up and Jake knows Mav has his own plane. Actually, maybe that’s the one Bradley flew here. Or they store their planes together.

                “Yeah, love you too. See you tomorrow. Did you want to talk to Jake again?”

                “Here…” Bradley says, and he passes Jake’s phone back to him before walking away back inside, leaving Jake with his privacy and he appreciates it.

                “Uh, hey Mav…”

                “Hey kid, I hope Bradley isn’t too much… you’re meant to be taking it easy and I know you didn’t break that drive up over two days like you were meant to.”

            ��   “I’m good.”

                “You are good kid, and I want you to stay that way. It’s why we follow the orders of our doctors.”

                Jake snorts because he’s pretty sure Mav ignored half of the orders he heard prior to his retirement.

                “I’m here now, and I will do nothing but rest. Once Bradley leaves with his blisteringly bright shirts and music it’ll be the perfect place to rest and recover.”

                “He’ll get rid of both if you ask –”

                “Nah Mav, it’s kind of nice having someone not walkin’ around like I’m about to collapse any minute. He even cooked me breakfast this morning, he’s a good host.”

                Mav makes a weird choking sound and there’s mumbling he can’t make out before he clears his throat.

                “Well, I’m glad. I’m going to call you in a couple of days and check in with you, okay son?”

                “Yeah Mav, that’s fine.”

                Ending the call Jake slides his phone into his pocket, although he should really go and see if Bradley wants to use it to make the remainder of his necessary calls. He wonders what he’d have done if Jake hadn’t turned up. He should probably call home and check in with Javy and his siblings. He flicks off a couple of messages and lets them all know he’s okay. He stares out at the sparse scrubby forest, can see the shimmer of water off in the distance, looks at the lean-to stacked high with firewood and wonders what it would be like to have a place like this of his own. Somewhere he chose to be for longer than the length of a deployment, somewhere to return to. Not to one of his siblings. Not Javy. His and his alone.

                The bang of the screen door startles him and he turns to see Bradley, changed into running shorts and a loose tank.

                “I’m just going to go for a run before it gets too hot. Did you want to come with me?”

                Jake pulls a face, because normally he’d love to, but the jarring nature of running would not be great for his head. Today needs to be a rest day.

                “I’m meant to be taking it easy. Running probably isn’t the best idea.”

                The look that that new information gets him makes him wish he’d kept his mouth shut, but he’s feeling okay right now, needs to allow his body to recover after the drive yesterday if he wants to get back to flying as soon as he can. Bradley just nods his head though, accepting it without asking further questions.

                “Okay. I’ll show you the best place for swimming later, and the docking spot if you want to take a kayak or paddle board out.”

                “Sounds good,” Jake replies, failing to mention that he definitely won’t be kayaking or paddle boarding, although normally he’d love to do either of those things. Swimming sounds good though. He’s been aching to exercise in some form and swimming is something that he can gently start with. Maybe work up to the others.

                “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Make yourself at home.”

                He watches Bradley head off to what may or may not be a regularly run track before heading inside. He’s not going to snoop around, but he figures he can definitely go through the kitchen and maybe figure out what he could make for lunch. There’s an odd assortment of things, but he thinks he could cobble together some type of sandwich, but there’s no bread. Okay. This gives him something to do. He likes his bread too much not to have some on hand for a quick snack so he quickly searches for a recipe. No yeast that he can find, but there is beer, so he sets to work.

PART THREE

#Hangster #Sereshaw #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfic #It's all academic darlin'

[blue-jisungs]

joseon era prince minhyun who wears matching sets of hanbok with you bcuz he's rly not supposed to be dating u but he doesn't care >:( and he can't do the usual couple things so he likes to have smth that ppl won't catch onto </3

gardening

author's note. i’m so soft for him bye :( i hope u like it zanzan hehe i combined this and this req bc it just?? felt right hehe

yes i used yuls pics but who cares >:)

summary. relaxing with your partner minhyun in your garden <3

word count. 673

minhyun never really enjoyed gardening. sure, he loved the way various plants adorned his garden, creating a palette of colors that was within reach. however, he didn’t feel the urge to understand the mechanics of flowers not get dirty because of the ground and bugs.

that was until he met you.

minhyun looked for every occasion to get closer to you and even after dating, he’d look for every opportunity. as a noble person he shouldn’t be dating you and you neither – your families wouldn’t approve it because your parents didn’t fancy his parents. and minhyun’s parents had already planned who they want to be his son’s wife.

but he didn’t care.

because of that you had to restrict going out to public and doing the usual lovey-dovey stuff. at times, you envied the other couples.

but for most of the time, you didn’t mind. it was minhyun after all.

he adored wearing matching hanboks with you. “accidentally” bumping onto each other in the streets only to see that he wore a purple hanbok, just like you, made your heart flatter. sometimes, it’d be not on purpose and you’d snicker upon seeing his eyes widen in shock. another time, minhyun would send you a letter saying that you two should wear a hanbok in for example, green color. it seemed like such a small thing but you adored that.

that’s why you two found yourself tucked in the safety of your garden.

at first, you would just hang out there to keep hidden from the public eye. then, minhyun got involved with the way you take care of the flowers.

you treated them so gently, as if made out of the finest china. dozing water so they don’t have too little but also! not too much. trimming the leaves with precision left him speechless… or even when you weren’t afraid of dirt and got on your knees to pull out weeds.

eventually, he got invested too. you taught him all the basics and you two studied the language of flowers together.

“it’s just so beautiful today, isn’t it? the breeze is fresh and the sun is warm” you said, taking a deep breath. the mixture of flowers’ scents filled your lungs.

“mhm” minhyun hummed lazily, putting down his book and resting it on his chest. he was laying down on the ground, next to where you watered the peonies. he let the sunlight shine on his face, soaking his skin. squinting his eyes a bit, his ebony gaze found you and a smile subconsciously creeped on his lips.

“i just hope the flowers won’t dry. i shouldn’t be watering them in such weather but it’s not that awful” you continued your small ramble and noticed a small, yellow butterfly skipping over the petals. halting your movements, you followed its route.

the birds chirping in the background were even more beautiful than the sounds of haegum, your heart feeling at ease. it was so peaceful.

“we should plant some forget-me-nots in your garden, darling” you announced and turned around, the breeze tickling your skin. eyes meeting with dozing off minhyun, you snickered.

suddenly, the butterfly approached him. first, it circled around his book only to end up resting on his nose.

you gasped softly at the cute sight. you wished you could capture this moment somehow yet you were sure that this sight will be engraved in your memories forever.

minhyun scrunched his brows.

“it’s ticklish…” he muttered and opened his eyes. letting out a confused mph? when his eyes met with the butterfly, he just rested his eyelids again and began to fall back into slumber.

“let me just finish this bush and i shall nap with you, dear” you whispered, more to yourself than your significant other.

now minhyun’s soft snores added another chorus to the bird choir but you didn’t mind. listening to the tender melody you enjoyed the sun on your skin, breeze in your hair, the sweet smell of flowers and the feeling of warmth spreading in your heart.

masterlist <3

taglist. @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @primoppang ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @eternalgyu ,, @haecien

#blue jisungs's requests #minhyun #hwang minhyun #wanna one minhyun #nuest minhyun #wanna one hwang minhyun #nuest hwang minhyun #minhyun fluff #minhyun fic #hwang minhyun fic #hwang minhyun fluff #minhyun x reader #hwang minhyun x reader #wanna one fic #wanna one fluff #nuest fic #nuest fluff #fluff #fanfic #fic #hwang minhyun actor

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

marie and mary

lately annie always looked forward to her sessions with marie. she was increasingly sexually satisfied and confident, seeing it all through a lens of being "god honoring." she told annie she even saw her now increasingly frequent masturbation sessions at home as god-honoring as she sent pictures and videos of herself to her husband.

annie asked her if the other women at her church ever looked at this young, modestly-dressed housewife and had any idea she was filming herself jerking off for her husband every day. marie laughed. "i really doubt it."

then she told annie that she'd been comparing notes about sex with her sister, who was similarly a married christian mother and housewife. she was fascinated to learn that her sister shaves her pussy every day and she and her husband have weekly anal sex. her sister similarly did not masturbate, but seemed very receptive to marie's rationale.

"here's an odd question," annie asked. "what is your perspective on nudity around the house. like, around your kids?"

marie laughed. "i actually talked to my sister about this recently."

"why?" annie asked. "what prompted it?"

"the fact that she shaves her pubic hair," annie said. "i wanted to know if her children see it, i mean she has a teenage son. i was curious because it might confuse him a bit when he meets women later in life."

"what did she say?"

"well, we have a similar perspective which is that a mother's body is sort of family property. i know that sounds very strange. but i am often naked around the house and in front of family but my husband is not. and that makes sense to me. growing up, my mother was often nude around the house but my father was not, and my sister and i both emulate that. i don't feel shy being naked around my children, my parents, my brother..."

"your brother?"

"sure," marie said. "i have a younger brother in the army. when he's home he often stays with us. and i don't think twice about being naked around him."

"like fully naked? tits and bush?"

"yes," marie said.

"under what sort of circumstances?" annie asked.

"like, when i get out of the shower. i'll just put a towel on my head. but then, you know, if there's nothing going on, i will take my time getting dressed."

"does he ever comment on it?"

"no."

"does he look?"

"of course he looks, he's a man."

"do you like that he looks?"

marie blushed. "i do, i suppose. i also like that my father looks."

"can you think of a time in particular?"

"well," marie said. "my father was at my house a lot when i was pregnant the first time, helping me get the nursery ready, and he'd show up early in the morning, so you know, i'd shower while he was there. he paid a lot of attention to my body at that time."

"what else?"

"once," marie said, smiling at the memory, "when I was 17, it was easter. i was getting ready in the bathroom upstairs, and I was only wearing panties, doing my makeup in the mirror. my uncle, my father's brother, he walked in on me. and he looked me over. i just stood there and let him look at me. and he said i had become quite a woman. and i just smiled at him, and he reached over and he pulled down my panties too. and i let him look, he looked at my bush, and he said i was beautiful, and then he left."

annie was surprised that A. she was picturing her own uncle rick and that B. it was making her wet. marie's hour was up.

annie had a new patient in the timeslot after marie's, a trouble teenager named mary. mary was from a religious family, like marie, which annie felt was coloring their interaction -- she was benefiting from knowing marie in relating to mary. mary herself wasn't particularly devout or interested in religion, but was so absorbed in that she accepted it as the default parameters of her life.

mary's parents were making her see annie, as well as their local pastor, because of a combination of drug use and "promiscuous activity." it took their first hour to even get it out of her, but annie now knew that essentially her parents had found a dimebag and a thong in her drawer and found both equally offensive.

most of mary's problems, of course, came from her parents. she explained to annie today that her father checked her underwear daily --- both to see that it was an approved size and shape, and that she wasn't hiding anything in them.

"so he's like, what, pulling down your pants every day?"

"yeah," mary said. "or lifting my skirt and pulling my underwear down."

"the fuck?" annie said. "sorry."

"no, i agree," mary said. "but also like, who cares. it's just my vagina. i know i have a prettier one than my mom so it's like, maybe that helps him get it up for her."

annie snorted. "sorry," she said. "very unprofessional, but that's funny."

"sometimes i put notes in my underwear for him," she said. "like i'll write "hi dad" on a sticky note and stick it to my pubes."

"does he like that?"

"no, he's all business when he's strip searching me. probably jacks off later."

at first annie had been hesitant to ask about what she and the pastor talked about. "it's like this," she said. "he's very understanding."

"that's good," annie said.

"yeah," mary said. "he thinks i should be subservient to my parents to a point -- like basically give them enough to leave me alone, and then do what i want. he disagrees with them about what is sinful."

"such as?"

"well, my dad says that thongs are sinful. my pastor said that women can wear things like that maybe to increase the passion in their marriage, but also even just if they like it and it makes them feel positive about themselves."

"i agree," annie said. "I'm wearing a thong right now."

"My dad won't let me," mary laughed. "But I would be otherwise."

"what else does your pastor disagree with your dad about?"

"masturbation."

"wow, really?" annie said. "the pastor is pro-jerking it?"

"i wouldn't say pro. but he says for young people it can be a really good way of practicing abstinence and controlling urges."

"are you a virgin?" annie asked.

"yes," mary said. "technically."

"technically how?" annie asked.

mary took a deep breath. "my friends and i sometimes practice."

"oh," annie said. "sounds cool. what do you mean?"

"well, we have this..." mary hesitated. "it's a dildo on a harness, that you..." she gestured.

"a strap-on."

"i didn't want to say that in case it was wrong. but yes. we have one. and we practice on each other with it."

"you practice fucking each other?"

"yes," mary said flatly.

"you and... other girls?"

"yes."

"how many?"

"there are five of us."

"ok. all girls in the church?"

"yes."

"where'd you get the strap-on?"

"my friend elisa has an older sister who is a lesbo and she doesn't talk to anyone else in the family. they literally pretend she doesn't exist. but elisa still talks to her and she gave it to her. we keep it in the woods behind her house."

"in the woods behind her... do you clean it?" annie asked, suddenly worried for these girls' vaginal health.

"yes," annie said. "we wash it in the river."

"you wash it in the river and then you screw each other in the woods?"

"yeah," mary said flatly.

"well, first of all, that is cool as fuck," annie said. "and like something out of the crucible."

"the what?"

"it's a play. i guess they probably don't read it at christian schools these days." she laughed. "wow. so like, you fully penetrate each other."

"yes."

"just in the dirt?"

"we bring a blanket."

"do you get naked?"

"well yeah," mary said.

"do you have orgasms?"

"yes," mary said. "like, a lot."

"does anyone else know about this?"

"i told the pastor."

"you did!?" annie said. "what the fuck did he say?"

"he said that it was really unusual, but that if we were doing it because we wanted to be ready for our future husbands, it didn't seem wrong to him."

"intense," annie said. "do you feel that is what you are doing? getting ready for your future husband?"

"yeah," annie said.

"but do you enjoy it? like, okay, do you enjoy being the person wearing the strap-on?"

"yes," mary said. "i like making my friends feel good."

"and seeing their bodies?"

"well, i'm very used to their bodies. but i like it."

"i kind of wish i had this growing up," annie said.